Where We Find God
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Sam must endure a haunting encounter with his past before his realizes that he can deal with whatever the future may bring.
1. Chapter 1

Where We Find God

By: Ridley C. James

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them. No money was made from this work.

Summary: It takes a haunting encounter with his past to help Sam realize that he can face the future-no matter what it brings.

Author's notes: This is a companion piece to _The In Between Place. _So, you need to have read that one before hand. A few of you asked about the car wreck and I found it more **difficult** than I thought to tell that story and keep it connected to the present. I'm still not sure that it _can_ be done. But I found a poem that so reminded me of Sam that I decided to give it a try. I hope this worked, somewhat. If not- at least it was a good stretch for the muse. Reviews are always appreciated.

_He who learns must suffer. _

_Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart. _

_And in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of_

_God._

_-- Aeschylus_

Sam Winchester finally tore himself away from his brother's bedside sometime after midnight. They had told Dean's doctor that Dean was checking himself out of the hospital against medical advice and to say the man was livid was a gross understatement.

Still, his brother had remained as stubborn as always even after the doctor went into great detail about what Dean could expect in the coming days. Sam, on the other hand, had almost caved. The idea of his brother's suffering wasn't something he could imagine, nor did he want to accept it as part of the whole dying deal-as Dean had so eloquently put it.

The only way Sam had gotten his brother to agree to the doctor's request that they at least stay the night was by pointing out the fact that sleeping in the hospital was cheaper than a hotel, and neither of them was in any condition to drive through the night. Dean was nothing if not practical, especially when it came to his hard earned poker money.

It hadn't taken long for his older brother to fall asleep after the doctor left. But Sam still had found it hard to leave him-to lose physical contact- if only for a few minutes. He struggled, even though the sterile walls were slowly collapsing in on him and the smell of sickness and antiseptic were threatening to send the contents of his meager lunch back from his stomach as an offering to the great porcelain god.

Maybe it was so hard because Dean had never seemed so vulnerable, even when he'd been hurt before on hunts. Even when a crazed serial killer had nearly succeeded in murdering him. No, to Sam, his brother had always been invincible-until now.

Now Dean just seemed broken. And it was that line of thinking that finally drove Sam away.

Taking a walk was better than journeying down a path that would only lead to a destination that Sam couldn't face. A place without his brother.

The hospital was calm at night. Although Sam suspected that the ER was a different story than the patient floors. Here, on the top wing, he was free to wonder the halls aimlessly, almost invisible. Nurses ignored him in their rush as they shuffled past with clipboards and pushed carts of machinery and medicines-like worker bees preserving the hive.

Sam was glad for the anonymity. He didn't feel like small talk.

Passing a small office that proclaimed it belonged to the resident patient advocate, Sam momentarily thought of Dr. Marilyn Castle and the conversation that he and the woman had shared. How odd and ironic that he had been so terrified of losing Dean to a hunt gone bad just several months ago. And now, here he was in another hospital in almost the same situation.

And he was still afraid.

Terrified of being left alone in the dark.

Sam shook off the feeling and continued his walk.

As unlikely as it seemed, considering the life he'd led in the past twenty-two years, Sam was a stranger to fear.

He had always felt protected-safe.

Even if a part of him recognized it as an illusion-he'd reveled in it just the same. He accepted it as the truth. Maybe even took it for granted. Counted on it to always be there. His own personal safety net with a bad attitude and a leather jacket.

But now that invisible barrier between him and all that could hurt him was crumbling and Sam wasn't sure where to go to find the answers to fix it. What was worse was the idea that those answers might not even exist.

His morbid line of thinking was once again interrupted as he came to the end of the corridor. He was about to turn around when a flicker of light caught his eye.

A small octagon-shaped glass window seemed ill-placed in the middle of the brown wooden door, that stood out in contrast against the harsh, white hospital walls.

Sam stopped in front of it, noticing how the glow from inside illuminated the brilliant colors of the stained glass. It gave off a warm, inviting feel and seemed to beckon him inside.

The word _Chapel_ sent both a wave of dread and one of anticipation through the young hunter and he hesitated before reaching out to turn the knob.

It wasn't locked although Sam, for some reason, had half expected that it would be. When he entered he was relieved to find the room empty.

Dark wooden pews with crushed cranberry padding filled the small space and faced a modest alter that was lined with candles-each holding a tiny dancing flame.

Sam's boots sunk into lush gold carpet as he made his way to the front pew and he caught the faint smell of cinnamon and some other spicy scent. Both were a welcome reprieve from the hospital aromas that had assaulted his senses during the last sixteen hours.

He took a seat and faced the alter. Unsure of himself and more nervous than he could explain, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Sam closed his tired eyes and tried to calm his racing heart- grasping desperately at the peace that so many people confessed to finding in such places.

Nothing changed, however. No feeling of calm rushed over him-no profound understanding overtook him.

No. If anything, he felt inconsolably more alone in that moment and it sent an irrational need to get back to Dean coursing through him.

The youngest Winchester needed his brother- not this-whatever _this _was. Sam desperately needed to see Dean's face and hold his warm hand and feel his chest rise and fall once more.

He rose quickly in his panic but a sharp, explosive pain in his head brought him up short. Sam couldn't stop the groan that escaped him as he brought his hands to cradle his skull and sank back into the pew.

A white light flashed behind his eyes and that's when he heard the voice.

"I always envied you, you know."

The impossibly familiar accent had Sam blinking away the tears of pain and searching the room for it's source.

A sudden drop in temperature in the chapel didn't go unnoticed by Sam and he shivered as the cold air swirled around him. Then _he _was there-stepping out of the shadows looking exactly as Sam had remembered him.

It was just like his mother had appeared to them back in Kansas. Like time had frozen from the moment of death. He was corporeal like Mary had been and looked almost like any other normal, living person.

Jake McGhee was still seventeen, however. Even though he'd been dead more than six years. He even had the same Eminem T-shirt and faded jeans on he'd worn the last time that Sam had seen him-minus the gore and blood. His red hair was as untamed and wild as ever, his smile sharp and his green eyes still brimming full with hidden ideas of mischief.

"How?" Sam slowly stood, bracing himself with the back of the bench, to ward off the sudden dizziness and nausea. "You can't…you're…"

"Dead?" The young man sighed dramatically. "Yeah, don't remind me."

"Great." Sam swallowed hard and mentally cursed Dean for the whole _Haley Joe_ comment. Now it seemed that he _was_ seeing dead people.

"Don't worry, dude, you're not crazy." Jake shook his head. "Although I did expect a _ghost_ hunter to be a little less freaked out by a ghost."

"Well, it's been a long day," Sam explained, straightening himself to his full height and trying to retain some of his professional dignity. "What are you doing here, man?"

Jake shrugged. "I think I should be asking you that. You're the one that brought me here, John Edwards."

Sam shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that one of his few high school friends-a long since deceased one at that-was now standing in the chapel with him. "I don't know what you mean. I haven't thought of you in years." It was harsh, but true.

"Gee," Jake brought his hand to his heart, "it's nice to know I'm so fondly remembered. And after all we meant to each other, Kansas."

Sam raked a hand through his hair-frustrated with himself that he was actually concerned with hurting a spirit's feelings. Dean would have laughed his ass off. "I'm sorry, Jake. I just meant that I've been busy."

"Yeah-living and all that." The words were frosty but Jake smiled to take the sting away. "Chill, Sam, it's not like we were best buds-I get it."

"Yeah." Jake was right. Sam and he were friends, but Sam had still been wary of getting too close to people back then-afraid of when he'd be jerked away. The hunter stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and resisted the idiotic urge to ask his old friend how he'd been.

"So," Jake saved him. The ghost sat in one of the pews and motioned for Sam to do the same. "Aren't you curious why a good-looking, brilliantly funny, and highly popular kid like myself envied a geeky guy like you."

Sam sat down on the bench in front of Jake. "My calculus grades?"

When Jake rolled his eyes, Sam shrugged and his smile faded. "Because I survived the crash?"

Jake laughed. "You living guys all think you have it made-don't you, Kansas?"

Sam snorted. He'd forgotten the nickname he'd been tagged with that year and the fact that Jake had a wicked sense of humor, almost rivaling Dean's morbidity. "Then why?"

"Because of your brother."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion and he shook his head slightly as if he hadn't heard the other guy right. "My brother?" The hunter shivered as another chill passed through him and the air felt so cold that he was surprised that he couldn't see his own breath. "You guys couldn't stand my brother."

It was true.

Sam was pretty sure that the friends that he'd hung out with as a senior had not only _feared_ Dean Winchester, but secretly envied his hot car and uncanny ability to pick up any girl that he wanted-including their girlfriends if he so chose. But he was damn positive that they never-ever-liked him.

Jake nodded. "He was a cocky-ass sonuvabitch but he had a ride most guys would have given their left nut for, and the punk got more tail than atoilet seat." He laughed. "But man, he had your back."

Sam averted his eyes from Jake as he felt them begin to sting. He didn't want to be here talking about his brother to a freakin' ghost as if Dean too existed in the past-like Jake.

Apparently Jake was still slow on the uptake. "Dean was like a Pit Bull when it came to you, Sam. Man, I wish I could have lived long enough to see him beat Jeff's ass."

Sam turned to look at Jake, confusion playing across his handsome face. "Dean didn't…"

"The hell he didn't," Jake snorted. "Do you think Jeff copped to everything out of the goodness of his heart. Man, you're still as gullible as ever."

"I know Jeff was a jerk." Sam suddenly felt like the naïve kid he'd been back then. "I just didn't think about it."

The truth was that he'd been in the hospital for a while and when he'd gotten out Jeff Wilkerson had already been arrested and John had been more than anxious to leave the town behind them. The accident was something of a _hot_ issue between his father and Dean. Sam hadn't really understood why, but he knew it had something to do with him. By the time Sam was well enough to leave, John had them packed and ready to go. He hadn't even gone to Jake's funeral.

The spirit seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't sweat it, man. You were there when it counted."

"I was terrified." Sam remembered that feeling with painful clarity. It was the first time he'd felt completely alone and vulnerable.

"No shit, man. We were bleeding to death and that asshole Jeff could have given a flying fuck if we died. He was more worried about his ride."

Sam held Jake's gaze, the pieces starting to fall in place. "I'd never been alone and in trouble before."

Jake nodded. "Bingo, boy wonder."

"That's why you're here? To remind me of what a fuck-up I am when I'm on my own?"

"You tell me." Jake sighed, "Something about that night has triggered something in that freaky head of yours." He tapped his own forehead. "What do you remember, Kansas?"

"Not a lot."

Jake reached out and laid his hand on Sam's arm. "Try harder."

Sam shuddered at the icy touch, but closed his eyes just the same. However, instead of merely recalling the past events, the years seem to effortlessly fall away and he felt as if he had tumbled back in time.

When he opened his eyes the paneled chapel walls were replaced with ones that were painted a pale shade of blue, with peeling wall paper lining their tops. Fading sunlight fell through the numerous kitchen windows chasing away the last of the chill from his body and Jake was no longer in front of him, but rather, John Winchester.

"Do not go out without your cell phone. And if you do go out, curfew is still at eleven, just like I was here." John held his son's gaze. "I'll know if you were late." The oldest Winchester continued to bark orders as he shoved weapons of various nature into his duffel bag.

Unbeknownst to him, his older son was mocking every word from behind his back.

"I put salt under the windows and in front of the doors but you might want to put some around your bed just in case, and…" John suddenly swung around and pointed a finger at Dean, "…_you_ might want to act your age for a change before I throttle you."

Sam laughed at the complete look of feigned innocence that crossed his twenty-one year old brother's face only to find his dad's hard gaze locked on him again.

"I mean it, Sammy. I want you to be careful."

Sam fought the urge to remind his father once again that his name was _Sam-say it with me Dad-Sam. _Instead he merely saluted the man. "Yes, sir."

"Smart ass," John mumbled, shaking his head and zipping his bag. For about the hundredth time he wondered if he'd been too easy on his boys. Apparently they had no fear of him. He'd have to work on that.

John looked at Dean again. "_You_-I'll deal with in the car."

Dean only grinned as his dad brushed past him and headed outside. He raised an eyebrow and rubbed his hands together. "So, little brother, what _are_ your big plans for this solo weekend."

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. "I told you that I'm going to be studying for end of course tests, jerk." That was the whole point in Sam sitting out the hunt, after all. It was December and the first half of his senior year was almost over.

His dad had promised him one year in the same school. A year in which Sam could take AP and Honor's classes which he'd need on his transcript if he wanted to get into a good college, and to take the time to actually get to know teachers and counselors that could write reference letters for him-without Dean having to forge them.

So far, John had come through on the deal and Sam wasn't about to screw it up.

"You're going to be alone for the whole weekend, you have the house completely to yourself,and you're going to curl up with a good book?"

Sam grinned at his brother's look of baffled disbelief. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do." The youngest Winchester was determined to add a perfect 4.0 to his ACT score of 34. It was all part of his bigger plan.

Dean sighed. "Further proof that you are definitely adopted or maybe an alien life form from the planet- _Boring!"_

"Hey, one of us has to grow up to be an actual adult."

Dean shook his head. "Maybe I should stay home just in case you stab yourself with a really sharp pencil, or strain your eyes reading, or get really crazy and bleed to death from a paper cut."

Sam didn't miss the flicker of emotions that flashed quickly through his brother's green eyes. He may have been enjoying teasing his kid brother, but he was also half serious about the staying part. "I'll be fine."

"I know that." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "But maybe I could use a weekend off too."

Sam raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Dad might need your help."

The older Winchester looked out the door and sighed. His brother was right, but it still felt wrong to be leaving Sam alone.

He turned to face his kid brother again and held his hand out. "Here- take this just in case."

Sam hesitated, half expecting at best-one of Dean's many female admirer's phone numbers- at worst- a condom. "Dean, I told you…" The words died on Sam's lips as Dean dropped his necklace in his babybrother's outstretched hand.

"For protection." _So at least a part of me is with you. _

"Dean, I got this for you." Sam closed his hand around the pendant. "You're the one out hunting. I'm going to be here, at home, studying."

"_I_ have Dad." Dean forced a smile on his face, and cuffed Sam on the side of the head. "Besides you may change your mind and go out. That may bring you some of my luck with the ladies. Let's face it, kiddo, you need all the help you can get."

Sam snorted, but slipped the necklace over his head just the same. "You're such a thoughtful and caring older brother-for a prick, that is."

"Damn straight." Dean winced as his dad laid on the horn of the Impala. He picked up his pack and winked at Sam. "Condoms are in the top drawer of my dresser- just in case. Protection and safety first. That's the Winchester motto."

_And here I thought it was Semper Fi. _"Get out of here, you idiot."

Dean turned to go, but stopped at the door. "Stay out of trouble, Sammy."

He was gone before Sam could correct the nickname. As he listened to the roar of the Chevy's engine as it pulled away from the house, Sam sank into the couch and sighed. He had a feeling he'd still be _Sammy _when he was eighty.

The phone rang about an hour later and Sam started for the kitchen, sure it was Dean calling to check up on him.

He picked up the receiver. "I am not having sex this weekend so give it up."

"_Okay." _Much to the seventeen year old's mortification the voice on the other end did not belong to his older brother. _"I wasn't going to ask, Dude."_

"Oh, hey, Jake," Sam cleared his throat. "I've been getting some prank calls. Sorry."

"_Heavy breathers, huh?"_

"Yeah, something like that."

"_Cool." _Jake laughed. _"Most of us guys have to pay for that shit."_

"So, what's up?"

"_Well, some of the boys and I are heading over to Kate Lundy's end of the term party at the beach. We thought you might want to hang out."_

Sam looked at the pile of books and notes on the coffee table and then to the clock on the wall. It was already after seven. "I'm really buried in Calculus stuff at the moment but…"

"_No buts, Winchester. You have all weekend to study-_like you even need it_-and you've been telling me for months that you'd hang out. People are beginning to think you lead some kind of double life or your one of those loner-Columbine school shooter types."_

Sam sighed. For some reason Jake McGhee had taken Sam-the new guy-under his wing and drug him into the fold of the 'popular' crowd at San Morgana High. Most of the kids were alright, but some of them went out of their way to make Sam feel like more of a freak and outsider than he already did. "I don't know, Jake."

"_Come on, Kansas. Come out and play with us."_

"Who does _us _entail?"

There was a slight pause. "Well, me, Nick, Sham, and Jeff."

Sam silently groaned. Jeff Wilkerson was captain of the basketball team, president of the student council, and just recently founder and chief of the 'I hate Sam Winchester' club. Sam wasn't sure if it was because the basketball coach had been salivating over the prospect of 6'4 Sam joining the team or the fact that Jeff's girlfriend, Dana, had been drooling over Dean.

"_Look, Sam, I know Jeff's a jerk, but he has a really cool car and he knows how to have fun. Trust me."_

"I'm not really into the whole party scene, Jake." That was a grand understatement. Sam hadn't been to a party since he was in kindergarten and Kelley, the girl of his dreams at the time, had asked him to her birthday.

"_Have you ever been to a beach party, Kansas? I mean you've lived most of your life landlocked, right-surrounded by corn or something."_

"I've lived in California before, Jake." Sam had lived in more places than he could remember.

"_But have you been to a beach party?"_

"No." There was no use in lying about it. Sam had hardly seen the need to make the kind of friends that invited you to parties-especially after being uprooted anytime that he did go out of his way to give a shit.

"_Just as I thought. You have led a sad, sheltered life, my friend." _

Sam thought of his brother and sighed. Dean was always telling him that he needed to get out more-live a little. Have fun. Hell, what could it hurt? "I have to be home by eleven."

Jake laughed. _"Don't worry, Cinderella. We'll have you back before you turn into a pumpkin."_

Sam had regretted his decision the instant that he hung up. An hour later he could have kicked himself for being a moron and listening to Dean-even if Dean hadn't actually been there.

None of the kids at the party were in any of his classes except for Jake, some of them Sam was pretty sure weren't even in high school, and most of them were either wasted or on their way there.

"You not into the whole party scene, pretty boy?" Jeff nudged Sam harder than necessary as he came alongside him. "Have a drink, maybe it'll loosen your tongue."

Sam moved closer to the bon fire and away from Wilkerson. "No thanks." Sam wasn't into willingly losing control of his faculties. Dean loved to call him a control freak-but Sam preferred to look it as being cautious. After all, he'd watched his father take a painful trip down that road and he wasn't in any hurry to follow in the man's footsteps.

Jeff snorted. "It's Coke, Kansas." He shoved the plastic cup in Sam's hand. "I pretty much figured you for a geek-and we do need a designated." The other teen shook his head and smiled at the look of surprise that crossed Sam's face. "You didn't think we invited you along for your fun and lively personality, did you?"

Sam didn't reply, but merely sniffed the drink before tasting it. Jake took that moment to finally make an appearance. "There's my two favorite tall people." His words were slurred and it was obvious he hadn't been drinking what Sam was.

"McGhee, I think your date's not having anyfun."

"What?" Jake looked horrified. "Kansas-you aren't having fun?"

For the first time in his life Sam was beginning to think that being a 'normal' teenager wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Look, Jake, I think I'll just walk back to my house."

"Now, now, now," Jake roughly slapped Sam on the back, "you came here to have fun, and by God, man, you're going to have some fun." The red-haired teen pointed to some girls several feet from them. "I have it on good authority that those two lovely ladies are willing to share their blanket with us." He winked at Sam. "I'm betting that they'll be willing to share a lot more, if you get my drift."

Sam glanced at the girls, who smiled and waved at him, and then back up the beach that would lead to the old house that his father had rented for their small family. He wanted nothing more than to be hunting with his dad and Dean at that moment.

"Come on, Sam, lighten up." Jake grabbed his arm and started for the girls. "This is for your own good. Trust me."

Again with the 'trust me'. Sam knew that rarely did anything good come after the words 'trust me'. But after he had finished his second _Coke _and the world started spinning in an unnatural way, it was already too late to do anything about it. The last thought that entered his mind before he passed out was that Dean was going to be really pissed that he hadn't stayed out of trouble.

Chapter 2-coming soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Where We Find God

By: Ridley

Rating: T

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Author's notes: I love John Winchester's character. I really do. Some have commented that I write him too harsh, but I really do try to make him human most of the time, but in this part, and in the next one, I did make him somewhat of a bastard, just so I could have some fun. Hey, it's a girl's prerogative. Thanks so much for all the great reviews, guys!

Chapter 2

Dean Winchester woke with a start. His heart was pounding against his sternum and sweat beaded on his forehead, sliding down his face and bare chest in rivulets when he groggily pushed himself to a seated position. With a shaking hand he explored the other side of the mattress, searching the darkness for someone he couldn't reach. _Sam._

The squeak of the other bed proceeded the harsh light of the lamp as John swung his legs over the side of the mattress. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean swallowed hard, running both his hands through his damp hair, and tried to regain control of his runaway heart.

"You okay?" John tried to adjust his eyes enough to get a good look at his son in the harsh glare. One of his hands still rested on the blade under his pillow, but his fingers relaxed as he realized the threat had come from a nightmare and not a demonic source.

"I'm good." Dean was still breathing heavily, but he fought to pull it together. He rubbed at his eyes, which were stinging from the sudden light, and tried to erase the images of the dream he'd just had.

"You were calling out for Sam."

_Great. _"Yeah," Dean sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed that his dad had been witness to his childish subconscious fears. "You'd think I missed him or something." Weakness wasn't something John liked to see, especially in Dean.

"Or something." _Right. _John ran a hand over his beard and sighed. "I'm sure he's fine." Honestly, he was kind of shaken up. Being awoken by his oldest son crying out for his kid brother wasn't a typical occurrence. Dean hadn't sounded that scared in years. Dean didn't have nightmares- not since he was a boy. That was Sam's demon to bare. One that John hadn't ever been able to vanquish or even help with. _That_ was Dean's dragon to slay.

"Sure he is," Dean shrugged, "Must have been that fifth piece of pizza I ate. That's all."

"You want to talk about it?" _Please say no. _He was being a coward, but John only asked because he counted on the reply.

Dean snorted. "Who are you and what have you done with my father?" In his entire life he wasn't sure if his dad had ever asked him that.

That was the one he banked on. John shook his head. "Forget I asked." _Please._

Dean looked at the empty spot beside of him again. "It's just I'm not use to Sam not being with us when we're on the road."

"You mean where you can keep an eye on him." John could understand that burden-hell-he'd help create it.

"Yeah."

John leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees. Damn it. He'd opened the can of worms, he might as well through the line in. "You can't watch him all the time, you know."

"Funny-that's not what my _dad_ said."

The oldest Winchester rolled his eyes, really to tired to argue. "I know I expected you to keep an eye on Sam when he was a kid, Dean, but…"

Dean looked at the man as if he had just slapped him. If felt like he had. "But what, Contradictory." He laughed bitterly. "You chewed my ass out for losing sight of him for about two minutes on that hunt just last month. Did Sammy become a grown up in the last few weeks?"

John looked down at the floor, biting his lip to stop his first reply. Finally, he looked up at Dean again. "That was a dangerous situation."

"Trust me, I know how dangerous it was."

The older hunter sighed.

Believe it or not, sometimes, John felt on steadier footing with Sam. His youngest son was always honest about how he felt about just about everything-especially their lifestyle. Dean on the other hand could be like a damn mirrored puzzle box. He was never sure, if the side he was looking at was Dean or a reflection of what Dean wanted him to see. And he sure as hell didn't know how to get him to open up. Maybe he didn't want to know.

"Then you understand why I was upset. You're brother doesn't always pay attention when we're working."

_But you still keep making him do it. _"I got it."

Okay, that went well. So much for listening to Oprah. "Try to get some sleep. I'll need you sharp tomorrow."

"Yeah." Dean laid back down as his dad turned the light off. He tried to close his eyes but the sight of Sam in a coffin kept playing in his mind. He sighed, punched his pillow a few times and tried to get comfortable.

"You could call him, you know." John didn't think either of them was going to get any sleep until Dean heard his brother's voice.

"I'll never hear the end of it if I do." Sam didn't like to be coddled-or watched after.

"Tell him I told you to do it." John was good at being the bad guy. "I wanted to make sure he made curfew."

Dean looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was after eleven. "Well, if you really need to know, Dad."

John turned the light back on and Dean grabbed the phone, giving his dad a half-hearted version of his cocky grin. "Control freak," he muttered as he dialed their number.

The older hunter decided a trip to the bathroom was called for since he was already awake, and besides he'd give Dean some privacy to diss him to his little brother.

When he returned he expected to find Dean laughing about something at his expense, but what he found was his son shrugging into his sweatshirt-already having donned his jeans and shoes.

"Dean- what the hell are you doing?"

"Going home."

"What? Why? Did you talk to your brother?" A slow panic started to build somewhere deep in John's gut.

"He didn't answer," Dean explained, in a detached, calm way that sent chills down his father's spine.

"Son, he could have gone out."

Dean looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "You told him by eleven. Sam would have been home by eleven." Sam was the responsible one, after all. "I tried his cell too."

"He could be asleep."

Dean grabbed his pack and shook his head. He wasn't sure why his dad was determined to play Devil's advocate all of a sudden. Sometimes he and Sam were so much a like that it was scary. "Something's wrong. I know it."_ I feel it._

"We have a job to do tomorrow," John reminded him.

Dean's green eyes met and held his father's dark gaze. He would do anything the man told him to do, but this. "I have a job to do now."

John shook his head, ready to draw the proverbial line in the sand when the ringing of his cell phone brought him up short.

Both hunters shared a look, and a shadow of fear passed in his son's eyes, propelling John to nearly lunge for the phone. "Winchester."

"_John?"_

"Yeah."

"_John, this is Marty Collins." _

John glanced at Dean and then sat down on the bed. Marty Collins ran the wrecker service that was based out of the garage that John worked for in Morgana. They were both near the same age and had become decent poker and drinking buddies in the four months since he and his family had settled there. Still, they weren't the kind of friends who called one another up to chat.

"What's going on, Marty?"

"_I hate to call like this, man, but I was just called out to a pretty bad wreck out on Holly- you know the old beach access road."_

"I know it." John could feel his heart starting to speed up, he could feel Dean's gaze on him, but he refused to look at the boy.

"_Sam's here."_

_Oh, God. _"How bad?"

"_I don't know, John. They still don't have him out of the car. He and another kid. They were in the back of Jeff Wilkerson's sport's car. They're bringing in the Jaws as we speak."_

Damn it. It took a moment for John to force the words to actually form a sentence. "Is he alive?"

"Dad?" Dean dropped to his knees in front of the older man.

John finally looked at his son, knowing he wouldn't have to say anything once the boy got a glance of his face. "Marty, I asked you if he was alive?" He watched as Dean visibly paled.

"_Hold on." _

John could here mumbled voices in the background. His heart threatened to break free from his chest as he heard someone say that one boy was gone. _Please don't let it be my boy. _A lifetime seemed to pass in a breath of a moment.

As from a great distance, he heard Marty ask which one, and a wave of relief rushed over him as he heard someone answer the McGhee kid. _Poor bastard. _

_"John- Sam's still hanging in there. I won't lie to you, it don't look good. But he's alive."_

"I'll be there in a few hours." He looked away from Dean. "Will you stay with him, Marty? I don't want him to be alone." It wasn't like the Winchesters had made any close friends, there was no next of kin that wasn't 200 miles away in theirtiny motel room.

"_I'll stay with him, buddy, and see you at Mercy when you get there."_

"Thank you."

"_And John-I thought you'd want to know... I know I would."_

John swallowed hard, trying to keep his dinner down. "What?"

"_One of the paramedics said the boys were all wasted. The Wilkerson kid was flying. He and Brett Miller's boy are already in route to the hospital. They walked away from the crash."_

John clenched his fists, not able to control the anger that rushed through him. Not sureof who he was angry at."I'll see you at the hospital, Marty."

"_Sure thing, John. I'm sorry, man."_

So was John. He hit the end button and got slowly to his feet. He was sorry he'd left Sam alone. Sorry he'd not paid closer attention to he was haning out with. And sorry that he was apparently one _sorry _excuse for a father.

"What?" Dean slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes searching his father's face. "What's wrong with Sammy?" _I knew something was wrong. I should never have left him alone._

"There's been an accident- but he's alive."

The first thought that went through Dean's mind was a fire. Something had come for Sam and his world had just been consumed in a rush of flames for a second time. "What? What kind of accident?"

"Dean, it was a car accident." He didn't have time to play twenty questions, damn it.

John raked a hand through his hair, turning to grab his clothes from the chair where he'd discarded them only a few hours before. "Marty said it was bad. They still don't have Sam out of the car yet."

Dean caught his arm and stopped him. It was weird the things that would pop into a person's mind as their life tried to fall in around them. "Sam doesn't have a car, Dad."

"Jeff does." John pulled away from the younger man and tugged his jeans over his legs.

"_Jeff_?" The dislike was easily distinguishable as Dean practically spat the name out. "That idiot from Sam's school? The jock?"

John pulled his shirt over his head, and tried to keep his mind off what Sam may be going through. "Yes." He didn't mean for the rest to come out, didn't want to say things that weren't necessary -that were trivial compared to the fact that Sam was alive-but… "He was drunk."

"Sam?" Dean couldn't believe that-wouldn't believe that. His brother was no saint, but he wasn't into the party scene either. He shook his head. "No way!"

John shrugged. "All of them, apparently."

"Wilkerson was drinking and driving?" _With my little brother in the car?_ "I'll kill him."

The older hunter didn't even acknowledge the threat. He grabbed his bag and the car keys. "We need to get home. Now, Dean."

_No shit. We shouldn't have ever left._"Did Marty say how bad Sam was?"

John snapped. "Damn it, Dean! The man drives a fucking wrecker-he's not a doctor."

That meant it was bad. Dean felt the panic rising. He was 200 miles away and Sam was in danger-hurt-maybe dying. There was nothing he could do. His baby brother was in pain and he couldn't protect him from it. Sam might die before he even reached him.

Strong hands clasped his shoulder and his father gave him a hard shake. "Don't lose it now, Dean. I need you to suck it up. Do you here me?" John considered slapping the other man, but knew another way to bring him around quicker. "Your brother needs you to be strong, Dean. Do you hear me? Sam needs you."

Green eyes cleared instantly and his son nodded. "I know." _And I wasn't there. _

John sighed, lifting his hand from the younger man's shoulder and letting it rest on Dean's head for a moment. "Let's go then."

Dean watched his father step back from him and pick up both their bags and start for the door. He looked around the empty hotel room, and fought back the urge to crawl back in bed and pull the covers over his head to hide.

That's what he use to do when Sam was a baby. He'd hide both of them under the magical blankets, so no monster could ever find them again. Dean had always kept them both safe. It'd always worked before.

But Dean had let his guard down. And someone was going to pay.

Dean-for sure.

Sammy-probably- even though Dean would have died to prevent it from happening.

And Jeff Wilkerson-definitely-even though Dean would have to go to jail to make it happen.

Chapter 3-Coming Soon


	3. Chapter 3

Where We Find God

By: Ridley

Rating: T

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Author's notes: Sorry that this chapter is so short, but I honestly meant for this to be a one shot thing like _The In Between Place. _Unfortunately, it has taken on a life of its own. Hopefully it will be pulled together soon. Thanks so much for all the reviews. It does help feed the hungry muse. She demanded that I put a chapter up today, just to say thanks. So there-thank you. Also, _Negative Effect _should be updated soon. Meeting with Will tomorrow to work out some snags. Thanks for the patience.

The first feeling that overcame Sam was a sense of fear. Intense fear. Complete disorientation and helplessness- as if he were in one of those dreams where you're falling and can't catch yourself. Only this time, Sam didn't wake up until he hit bottom.

And then the pain came-rushing over him in a hot agonizing wave. It consumed everything he knew about peace and security like an inferno-leaving only hurt in it's wake.

He was pretty sure he screamed. A few times. At least he thought it was his own cries he was hearing. The sound of it reverberated against his vocal chords- but it felt odd, as if he was experiencing it from a great distance.

Then someone said his name, and something touched his face. Hope burst forth from the misery and one name sprung to his lips. "Dean," he breathed, praying his brother would be there. Dean would help him. Dean would get him away from the fire.

"Sam-can you…hear me?"

Sam frowned, _feeling_ more than hearing the difference in the tone of this person's voice and his brother's. His eyes remained closed, although flashes of bright light exploded in the darkness he was trapped in. "Come…on…Kansas."

Finally Sam pried one eye open, although the darkness remained. At first he was afraid he was blind, that whatever beast that had attacked him this time had taken his eyes, but then he realized that it was merely night time.

"Where…"

"You don't want to know…man."

The voice was soft and weak and coming from somewhere above Sam. It hit him then as another sudden pain tore through his skull. _Jake. _He couldn't stop the whimper of pain that escaped him.

"Come on, Winchester. You're brother will kick my ass if you die."

_Brother. _That was the word that stuck-the one Sam latched on to. He grasped it like a life line, pulling himself back from the edge. _Dean. _Hold on to Dean, a voice whispered

"Can you hear me, Kansas?"

Sam wondered how in the hell Jake had ended up in a Winchester hunt gone bad. His dad would be pissed that an outsider had gotten involved, but then he heard music and he remembered.

The sound of screeching tires replayed in his mind. He could hear them over the blare of _Kryptonite _that was pulsing through the speakers near his head. Even through his drugged haze he knew something bad was about to happen. The sound had sent chills over his skin as he felt a sudden fear spike through his bleary senses. After all, self preservation was strong in his family.

Then he had felt the spinning, and then a sensation of falling, before a loud crash had split the air and Sam had felt a jolt like he'd never experienced. Worse than being thrown by a pissed off poltergeist. The force of it sent him slamming into something hard, and then he was dropped to someplace just as unforgiving.

"You…still with me?"

Theteen tried to move, but received an invisible knife through his skull for his trouble. Dean's name left his lips again-without Sam even thinking about it.

"I'm sorry, dude…he's not here." And Jake was sorry. For more than he could say.

Sam turned his head towards the voice just in time to be sick all over the front of Dean's shirt that he'd borrowed without asking. Even his own gagging sounded as if it belonged to someone else, the smell making his one open eye water.

"Just try to breathe…man."

Breathing sounded good-in theory. But breathing meant that Sam had to expand his chest and that was hard considering at the moment there was an elephant sitting on it. Stars burst in front of his closed eyes again and he moaned.

"That's it…stay awake."

Sam focused on the one eye he had managed to open before and performed the feat again. This time he could barely make out a wash of red above him. He was pretty sure it was Jake's hair. Apparently, Sam was in the floorboard, and Jake was still strapped in to the back bucket seat.

"What…happened?"

Jake made a noise-something between a laugh and a choked sob. "Big crash-Kansas. You slept through it all. You're a cheap…ass drunk."

Sam tried once again to move but only managed to ignite the fire once more, and the beast licked at his right shoulder and arm. He bit back the scream that tried to leap from him-years of practice at pushing away pain coming unbidden.

"I don't think…I'd move if I were you."

Sam glared at what he thought was Jake's face. "No…shit." God, he wished Dean were there.

"You're fucked up…man."

That's comforting to know. At least his brother would have lied to him about the seriousness of his injuries. "Figured…that out on my own."

Again the half sob/laugh floated from above. "I've been better too. I don't think I was holding this tree up when I left the beach."

Sam blinked and willed his vision to stop wavering in and out. He could make out limbs jutting through what use to be the back glass of Jeff's car. Some of them seemed to be branching out from Jake's torso-but that wasn't possible. _Was it?_

"How?"

"Jeff crashed the car…the idiot."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to remember even getting back in the car with Wilkerson. He'd been planning to walk home-hadn't he?

"I'm…sorry, by the way."

When Sam didn't say anything Jake continued, "I didn't think you'd react…that way."

Sam's head hurt too much to think about what Jake was saying but he did notice that the other boy's voice was softer-his words slurring. They needed to get out, and if they were in the back seat- who was in the front.

"Can… _you_ move, Jake?"

"Only if someone ends my really bad impersonation of a Christmas ornament."

Okay. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Where's Jeff?"

Jake coughed, and Sam felt something warm and sticky splatter across his face, the coppery scent sadly familiar. "Bastard walked away."

"He left us?" A panic welled in Sam. They were alone, both crushed in what was left of Wilkerson's mustang. He could barely lift his head- let alone move. He was trapped.

His breath shortened and quickened. No one knew where Sam was-his only lifeline was over 200 miles away and he couldn't get out. He _had_ to get out.

Jake must have picked up on the change, because he answered, "I think he…and Nick went for help. You just…have to ride it out…Kansas."

Sam didn't know Jake well enough to know if he was lying or not. He tried to take a breath to control his heart rate. The increased blood flow was causing his head to pound harder, as if his brain was slamming against his skull in rhythm with his pulse. And there was a definite feeling of warmth spreading beneath him. If the coldness seeping into his body and the dizziness were any indication, Sam was pretty sure it was blood-his blood-and he was losing it fast.Jake was right-he was fucked up.

And scared.

He took as deep a breath as his battered torso would allow and let it out slowly. Dean would tell him to calm down. Find out as much information as possible. Knowledge was an advantage. "How long?"

"I don't know. I think…I just came to-so maybe ten minutes."

"Where are we?"

"Holly Road-I think. Not too far…" Jake started coughing again, but this time he cried out, and Sam jumped before he could stop himself.

Again pain ripped through the young hunter's side and flared down his arm, almost sending him to a state of unconsciousness again. _Dean! _Where was Dean? Dean should have been there with him._Right?_ He'd stop the pain.

"Kansas?"

"Yeah," Sam choked-holding panic at bay once more.

"Are you…afraid?"

Sam blinked trying to fight back the tears that sprung to the eye that he could open. Afraid didn't begin to cover it. He'd been hurt before, but never bad enough that he thought he might not make it. This time though- he wasn't sure.

"Yeah. I'm scared."

"I didn't know…dying would be like this."

"You're not…"

"You haven't seen me." Jake coughed again. "I'm not making it out of this."

Sam wasn't sure what to say.

He'd faced a lot of _dead_ things.

He'd been terrified of losing his father or Dean to Death a few times. If he thought about it- he'd been touched by Death- when his mother was taken. But never once had he thought about his own.

Or how to help someone else face theirs.

He'd been trained to avoid Death at all costs. To fight it tooth and nail. To destroy it.

And now-here it was-sitting in a smashed up car with him. He could feel it's presence as much as he could feel Jake's. It was heavy against his skin and there was a smell, a taste-it was waiting.

His head hurt worse, but he swallowed back the pain and willed his upper body to move. Leveraging himself against the floor he was able to lift his enormously heavy head a few inches-enough to see more of Jake.

He felt the bile rise quickly to the back of his throat again. _Oh, God. _

Jake tried to smile. "Good thing you were too out of it to work your seat belt, dude."

"I'm…sorry." Sam was amazed Jake was conscious-that he could carry on a conversation.

"I'm feeling no pain…"Jake sighed. "Must have severed something important…huh?"

Sam closed his eye and let his head fall back to the floorboard. "Please, hurry." _Please find me, Dean._

"You know I sat with my dog Shafer when he died," Jake whispered. "He had cancer…we had to put him down. One minute he was looking at me with those eyes of his. Eyes I'd seen light up so many times…and then he was just gone. I was still holding him-his body was still warm-but I _knew _he was gone. He faded away- like smoke." He took a rattling breath. "You know what I mean, Kansas?"

Sam shivered, the cold taking more of him now. "I think so."

"It wasn't scary…it was sad…but, kind of beautiful."

"Real." Sam said, understanding enough to know that there were two moments in a person's life when they couldn't pretend, when there were no walls or defenses, or when they crumbled-when they took their first breath, and when they faced their last.

"Yeah…it was _real_." Jake laughed, sending more blood raining down on Sam.

The hunter closed his eyes as it splattered against his forehead.

"We sound like pussies, Kansas. Pussies coming off a bad trip."

Sam swallowed hard, and forced himself to look at Jake again. "I won't tell anyone…if you don't."

"That's good, man. What would your brother think? Us crying like babies because of…a little crash?"

Tears spilled over Sam's eyes, feeling hot against his cold cheeks. Jake had a fucking tree impaled through his chest and he was thinking about looking tough. "He'd…think you had balls, man. He might even let…you drive his car."

"No shit?" Jake liked that. "I always wanted a car --babes love the car."

Sam choked back a sob. Jake wouldn't ever have a car. Sam might never see his brother again. _Please, don't let me die._

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It's fucking cold."

"I know." Sam shivered, as if to prove a point. "Help will be here soon."

"I hope…I hope you make it, Kansas."

The car was suddenly quiet, deafeningly so. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to will himself to hear Jake's harsh breathing over his own pounding heart. But it was gone. He was alone. He felt Death leave and it took Jake. His friend had faded away- just like smoke.

Chapter 4-Coming Soon


	4. Chapter 4

Where We Find God

By: Ridley

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Check it out at Chapter 1. Nothing's changed.

Author's notes: I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to thank all the reviewers personally. I read them all and they always inspire me to write faster. I hope this chapter will suffice as thanks, it was definitely inspired by all your generous comments.

John Winchester had feared so many things while his sons were growing up. After Mary had been taken from him, fear had almost consumed his life. It was hard to be brave in the face of the unbelievable-the undeniable. But he had succeeded and although he was scared of many things most mortals only scoffed at, he had never been driven by the typical worries of most ordinary parents.

Until tonight. Until the phone call about Sam changed everything.

It seemed that not only could the supernatural rob him of those he loved-but every day evils of the world were hell bent on staking their claim also.

He chanced a glance at his oldest son to take his mind off the unfairness of it all. They had been on the road almost two hours and were close to reaching Morgana. Dean had yet to speak to him.

When Dean was quiet, it was worrying enough. The boy usually rambled on about nothing non stop when he was worried or hurt. Talking and joking about anything and everything seemed to give him the ability to ward off pain-both emotional and physical.

His brother was the opposite. Sam would clam up-a lot like his old man-choosing to suffer in stoic silence. John couldn't help but to wonder how much his son was suffering now. He couldn't stand to be alone with his thoughts in the quiet car any longer.

"Sam's tough. You know that." He forced a light laugh. "He'll probably have all the nurses charmed before we get there. They'll be fighting over who gets to take care of him. Like that time a few years back."

Dean looked away from the window, no hint of amusement on his face. It was like a quick punch to John's gut.

There was unmistakable traces of unshed tears in his son's green eyes-eyes so much like Mary's. Dean never cried.

It stole his breath.

"He's hurt. He's alone." _And it's all my fault. _

"It's not your fault, Ace." John swallowed hard, fighting the stinging in his own eyes.

The oldest Winchester knew exactly what Dean was thinking and he felt a tiny stab of guilt, as he shoved his emotions away. Maybe he was a walking contradiction, because when he'd found out about Wilkerson, he'd felt an instant anger that Dean hadn't paid closer attention to who his brother had become friends with. _God, what would Mary think of him? _

He tried to imagine what his wife would say at a time like this. "It was an accident. No one's to blame." It sounded so hollow even to him.

Dean must have agreed because he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh,someone's to blame." His deep voice grew hard, the way it did when Dean was determined to kill something. Or in this case-someone. "Jeff Wilkerson caused this."

John sighed. He remembered the first time that Sam had been hurt-seriously hurt on a hunt. It hadn't been life threatening- no more than a bad scratch in the Winchester book on injuries-but it had given him his first glimpse of the monster he had helped create.

His youngest son had just turned ten and was so determined and eager to help with the hunts that his father had decided it was time to let him take a more active role. John could admit now that he'd gotten a little cocky about his skill. He was damn good at what he did-fate had demanded that he become efficient and mastered. But his first hard lesson in humility had almost cost Sam his life.

John would never forget the look on Dean's face when the thing they were chasing doubled back and went for Sammy. It was so quick and John wasn't use to having an extra person on the team to watch after. He'd almost forgot that Sam wasn't back at the car-asleep-until his boy screamed.

The monster had it's claws on Sam before he could react and if not for Dean's quick thinking and unbelievably fucking good aim, they could have lost him right then and there.

Dean had shown no mercy as he unloaded the silver bullets into the beast's chest and then to it's head. When it had dropped Sam-he wasn't sure which one of his sons was more terrified.

All bravado had been forfeited though when Dean caught sight of the blood on his kid brother's shirt. The physical pain that Sam endured that night as his father cleaned and stitched the three deep slashes across his ribs probably paled in comparison to the emotional suffering that his soft whimpers had inflicted on Dean.

Sammy had done his best to suck it up and be brave just like he'd seen his old man and big brother do, but once Dean fell apart-Sam couldn't hold it together either.

John sighed as the memory washed over him in vivid clarity. He'd allowed them that moment of innocent weakness-let Dean comfort Sam as he administered the medical treatment that his son needed. Later, he'd distantly watched as Dean praised his brother's bravery and then held him protectively. He'd run his hand over the little boy's hair-muttering words of solace as if they were a magic charm to hold the demons at bay-and it had worked. Soothed Sam more than any first aid he'd managed.

Later when Sam had finally fallen asleep John had let his oldest son have it. The marine in him convinced himself that it was for Dean's own good. For Sam's too.

John had told Dean that if Sam was going to hunt with them then he'd just have to learn to live with the bumps and the bruises. He couldn't be afraid-and Dean couldn't foster that fear with false illusions of safety.

Sam was past the point that his big brother could chase the monsters from beneath his bed and kiss away the boo boos.

He also pointed out that there may be a day when Dean wouldn't be there. But of course, Dean understood all too well that Sam and John both expected him to _always _be there.

John looked at his now grown son and couldn't help but to think of that fourteen year old who had fearlessly faced that monster to save his brother. The same teenager who had showed maybe even more guts when he'd told his old man to go straight to hell that night and then informed said father that Sam _wouldn't _be joining them on any more hunts until he was at least twelve.

It had been Sam- not John- who had convinced him otherwise. He had a feeling that Sam would probably be the only one who could save Jeff Wilkerson's ass also. But John would make sure to keep a close reign on Dean just the same- in case that same ugly monster decided to rear it's head again. The police would find it difficult to understand if Dean unloaded a clip of silver into a seventeen year old kid-even if the little bastard probably deserved it.

"Here's the exit, Dad." Dean's voice brought him back to the present. His son pointed to the glowing sign with the large H on it, as if his old man were blind or something, and John couldn't help but to notice that he already had his fingers wrapped around the door handle.

The older hunter left the interstate and raked a hand through his hair. It was well after midnight, and he had a feeling that morning wouldn't shed light on anything good for his family. He could only hope that someone or something was looking out for them. They deserved a fucking break for a change.

He didn't trust dropping Dean at the front and finding a parking space-instead he just left the car in an emergency drop off lane and he and his son practically ran for the door. Desperation was trying to get a foot hold againand John had to dig deep to find the good soldier underneath his dad façade.

The first person that they saw when the two of them burst through the swinging silver ER bay doors was Marty. He still had his wrecker uniform on and he looked more shaken than John had seen the man since first meeting him. And considering that Marty had at one time been a State Trooper, John wasn't comforted by the big man's distraught features.

Even more troubling was the smeared blood on the man's jacket and hands. "Marty?"

"John-thank God."

"How's Sam?" Dean had also picked up on the man's appearance and his eyes lingered on the blood stains as he spoke.

Collins raked a hand through his gray-thinning hair. "He made it to the hospital."

The tow truck driver looked at John. "It's a fucking miracle he survived that crash. The whole back end of that piece of fiberglass that Wilkerson drives folded in like an aluminum can. That poor McGhee kid…"

"Where's my brother?" Dean didn't want to hear the gory details of the crash-he'd be sure and have Jeff tell him all about it before he made him swallow his teeth. Right now he only had one thing on his mind-Sam.

Marty looked from John to Dean, as a nurse walked up to them. "Are you with the young man that they just brought in?"

Marty nodded to John. "He is."

"I'm his father."

"Good. We have some papers we need you to sign right away. Please follow me."

John looked at Dean who was staring at Marty again, before following the woman to a cubicle.

"Where did they take Sam, Marty?"

"Dean-they won't let you go back there, son."

Hard green eyes held the man's sympathetic blue gaze. "Where?"

Marty sighed. He pointed toward the silver treatment bay doors. "They took him straight back to the exam area. We got here just before you and your dad. It took over an hour to cut him out of the car even after they got the crash team there and…"

Dean didn't wait to hear anymore. Sam had been alone long enough. The young hunter made his way to the doors clearly marked with a _Hospital Staff Only _sign and pushed through them.

The nurse on duty called out to him but he kept moving ignoring her sharp, authoritative tone. _Fuck the rules. _

All his senses were on full alert-the hairs on the back of his neck prickling just like they did when he was on a hunt. His muscles were tense, prepared for action and he could almost feel the little vein on the side of his head pulsing with his increased heart rate.

He was fighting the urge to call out Sam's name when the instantly recognizable sound of his kid brother's distraught voice coming from somewhere near the end of the hall nearly had breaking into a run.

Seventeen year old Sam Winchester's word was currently consumed by pain and confusion.

He was cold-shivering-and no one would listen to him. Sam had tried to ask them something several times, but his pleas had gone unheard, or at least unheeded to.

Had someone called his brother? Where was Dean? That's all he wanted to know. Where was his dad? Where was Jake?

Sam had drifted in and out of consciousness as the crash team had fought with twisted metal to free him from what was left of Jeff's car only to awake to cold, unfamiliar hands grasping and prodding at him.

They'd cut Dean's shirt off of him._ And where is hisnecklace? _His brother was going to be pissed.

His jeans had been shredded too-leaving Sam nearly naked and vulnerable.

And now he was on a hard table in his shorts and shoes-the icy metal sapping what warmth he had left.

God-he was cold. So fucking cold.

The unfamiliar hands were back again-igniting the now familiar pain in his arm and side. Since no one was going to listen to him-help him-Sam did the only thing that he'd been taught to do-he fought.

"Someone get his damn feet! He just kicked the shit out of me." Dr. Mark Daniels dodged another size 12 as the teen lashed out.

"He's losing blood again. His pressure is dropping." Cate Simms tried to watch the boys vitals as she dodged his flailing arm.

"Damn, he's strong!" Dr. Billows barely kept hold of the patient's broken arm as he bucked wildly on the exam table. "I can't believe he's still conscious."

Daniels glared at the heart monitor that was beeping erratically. "We want him conscious with that head wound. I don't want him sedated- so find a way to strap him down-damn it!"

"This isn't helping, Doctor," Billows pointed out. "He's already in shock."

"Get some orderlies down here. NOW!" One of the techs grabbed a phone that was attached to the wall and spoke calmly to someone on the other end.

"They're on their way."

"Let…me…go." Sam shoved and fought against the demons trying to kill him. They were tearing him limb from limb-their viciously loud screams threatening to shatter his skull into a million pieces. "Please…stop."

The hurt-filled pleas of his kid brother had Dean Winchester seeing red as he barged into the small, already cramped, exam area. "Hey!" he shouted pulling the closest person holding his brother down away from the metal table "Get off him." He shoved the man against the wall.

Dr. Billows looked shocked and then angry. " Who the hell are you? You aren't suppose to be back here!" He looked around wildly. "Someone get this kid out of here."

Dean ignored him turning to the nurse who was trying to hold Sam's head still. "Let him go."

"He has a head injury. I'm trying to help him."

"Dean?" Sam had recognized the voice instantly. His struggles easing some, but not completely and tried to search the room for the source of his rescue. "Dean-help me."

That was all it took. Dean reach for the gun he always kept in the back of his jeans, but cursed as he remembered John had packed it when they left the hotel. He faced the woman again, letting the anger in his voice and demeanor suffice as a threat. "You're not doing a very good job, lady. Now get the hell away from my brother."

The woman looked at Daniels who nodded. "It's alright, Cate." She let go of Sam and he cried out as he tried to lift his head to get a look at Dean.

Dean was at his side in an instant. "Easy, Sammy. Take it easy." The older Winchester let his hand rest on his kid brother's head, making sure Sam could see him.

God-he was a fucking mess.

"You need to get him to calm down."

Dean glanced at the young doctor who had backed away from Sam some, but still held a bandage to a bleeding gash on his brother's side.

Dean nodded, and looked back to his brother. His own heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, so he could only imagine what Sam was feeling. He put his other hand on the teens face. "Come on, baby brother. Just breathe-okay. You're safe. I'm here now."

The orderlies burst in at that moment. "Get his ass out of here." Billows bellowed and Sam flinched.

Dean had to let go of his brother to face off against the two burly men in white coats advancing on him and Sam cried out in pain as he tried to recover the lost contact.

Dr. Daniels held up his hand to stop the orderlies. "Leave him be. If he can calm the boy down-let him."

Billows huffed loudly, but apparently wasn't willing to argue with the other physician. "This is against every protocol," he said, but called the orderlies back just the same.

Dean glared at the two men and moved to Sam's side once again. "Sam-calm down."

The stern tactic must have worked because his younger brother ceased his struggles and held his brother's gaze with his one eye that wasn't swollen shut. He reached his uninjured hand out and Dean caught it in his and held to it tightly. "Dean."

"Yeah." Dean swallowed hard, but kept the stern edge to his voice. "It's me. I'm here and I need you to just stop fighting the doctors-alright. Just be still." He ran his hand over Sam's hair again, and forced a smile. "They're trying to put humpty-dumpty back together again."

Sam's breath started to even out and he smiled, so glad that his brother had finally showed up. "I had a big fall?"

Dean nodded, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. "Fucking stupendous, little brother."

It looked like Sam was going to say something but suddenly one of the machines started beeping and the youngest Winchester's eyes rolled up in his head, and his entire body began to convulse.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, as he tried to comprehend what was happening. "Sammy?"

"Fuck!" Daniels and Billows both crowded around the table. "He's seizing."

"Get a crash cart in here."

"What's happening? What's going on?" Dean was shouting- but no one was listening.

Nurse Cate pried his hand away from Sam's and gently pushed him back. "I'm sorry, son, you have to leave."

"No!" Dean started back towards the table, but strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him away. "Sam! Sammy!"

He struggled and fought like a wild man, but the arms held strong, and it was only when he heard his father's deep voice in his ear that he stopped fighting.

John continued to hold on to his son-his arms pinning the younger man's back against his chest. "It's okay, Dean," he whispered softly. "Sammy's okay. He'll be okay."

John held Dean closer as he felt the quiet gut-wrenching sobs wrack his son'sbody as they watched the doctors fight for Sam's life. "I've got you, son. I'm here." He closed his eyes, letting his lips rest against Dean's soft hair and kept whispering the magic charm that would hopefully hold the demons at bay.

Chapter 5-Coming Soon


	5. Chapter 5

Where We Find God

Chapter 5

Dean could feel his father's arms around him, offering more comfort now than restraint.

Something about it was vaguely familiar- from his childhood perhaps- but mostly it reminded him of how wrong the situation was.

His father didn't comfort his sons. Not for a very long time.

If they did get solace it was from each other and Dean had come to accept that. He and Sam may have long since outgrown the moredemonstrative forms of it, but they were always-_always_-there for one another in other ways.

That's why Dean couldn't stand to see his brother so obviously broken. The whole side of his face was a pallet of purples and blues, and one eye was swollen completely shut. Bone had been protruding from his left arm, and more blood was coming from somewhere on his side. Those things had been enough to drive Dean to the edge, but the attack Sam had experienced had sent the older Winchester over-wind milling off a cliff he'd never expected.

Sam could die. _He can fucking die. _

The shear realization of being without his brother and the sharp pain that it sent through Dean's chest had him trembling. His family was the one thing he had left-the one good thing he'd found in histhis life._Please don't die, Sammy. Don't leave me. _

The older doctor that Dean had pushed against the wall suddenly looked up from his work on the still seizing patient and shouted at the orderlies. "Get his family out of here!"

It had barely been a minute since the fit started but to Sam's brother and father it seemed like hours.

"No." His son's voice was full of determination and John felt Dean tense in his arms again as the two men approached them. "I'm not leaving him," he growled.

"Sir, you both need to go now," the taller of the two spoke, motioning to the door behind them. "We will call security if you don't."

When John automatically braced himself for an attack and looked almost as reluctant and angry as Dean, the shorter, dark-skinned man raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture and nodded towards the table. "This isn't helping your son," he glanced at Dean, "either of them."

John could almost imagine what the man was thinking. _'Do you really want this to be the last memory he has of his brother? That you have of your child?"_

John swallowed hard, thinking instantly of the last image he had of Mary. No amount of beautiful memories could erase that picture of horror from his head- or his heart.

"Dean-let's go."

The younger Winchester stiffened as betrayal sank in, and heshook his head. "No."

"Dean," John gave him a hard shake, "we need to let them help Sam. We're in the way."

The taller orderly-the one apparently itching for a fight- moved directly in front of Dean and John waved him back. The man obviously thought he was dealing with a punk kid and not the trained killer that his son was. He hardened his voice. "Don't make this more difficult."

Dean pulled away from his dad and glared at the cocky clown in the scrubs. He could wipe the floor with his ass-no problem. But one look at the circle of people still crowded around his brother and Dean knew it wasn't worth it. He wouldn't risk Sam-not even to be with him. _I'm so sorry, little brother. _

With one final heatedglare at his father, he pushed past the older Winchester and stormed out of the treatment area.

"I'm sorry," the obvious smarter of the two orderlies stated sincerely. "It's never easy…"

"You have no idea," John cut him off gruffly. He looked towards Sam once more and prayed he'd have a chance to make more memories with his son to replace the awful sounds, smells and images that were now etched permanently across his heart. With a resigned sigh-fighting every fatherly instinct thathe had left-he turned and went after the one boy he could help.

Dean burst back through the silver bay doors that led into the ER waiting room in the same fashion that he'd gone in them-like a man on a mission.

He by-passed Marty, who stood quickly as he caught sight of the young man, and instead went straight for the two girls he'd noticed when they had first come in. Dean Winchester rarely walked into any situation where he didn't take account of all the players on the field. His father was nothing if not a good teacher.

At any other time the women might have caught his eye for an entirely different reason, but when he'd come for Sam-they were just a reminder that something else was here at the hospital that he needed to take care of.

He watched the guileless blue eyes widen as he stalked closer and felt a distinct pleasure in it. There had been a time when he'd considered hooking up with the expensive trophy that Jeff liked to flaunt around town-just to piss the dickhead off. It would have been like taking candy from a baby tooand it would have been so justified considering how Wilkerson and his other rich friends had treated Sam. But his brother had talked him out of it jokingly making two very good points-she'd been with Jeff _and_ she was jailbait.

"What the fuck did your boy friend do to my little brother?"

This wasn't a time for pleasantries or charm. Dean didn't need them.

The fear was unmistakable as he leaned his body into the blonde's space. The hunter could feel it rolling off her in waves and it only added fuel to the fire.

Dana Sentelle's heart leapt into her throat as she found herself nearly pinned in her seat by the muscular form of one very pissed off Dean Winchester.

This wasn't what she'd hoped for when she'd told Lisa she'd like to get up close and personal with the new guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Dean's face was so close to hers now that she see the gold flakes in his simmering green eyes and could feel his hot breath on her cheek. She pushed back and tried to sound calm. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dean."

Dean grabbed her arm and gave it just enough of a squeeze to elicit a slight gasp. "Don't fuck with me, sweetheart." There were only a few other patrons in the ER and considering that it was after two on a Saturday night, Dean didn't expect there to be anyone coming to rescue the lovely damsels. If they were at the hospital, they probably had enough troubles of their own. And besides, Dean hadn't found the 'hero' gene to be prominent in the typical human DNA. "I don't have the patience for your dumb act."

Being man-handled by the sexy bad boy might have crossed her mind more than once since his family had moved to town, but all thoughts of romance left Dana's mind as she recognized the barely controlled rage contained in the handsome face glaring at her.  
"I…it's not an act."

Dean would have laughed if the sickening scent of her perfume hadn't mixed so badly with the smell of blood and vomit he could still vividly recall from the moments he had spent with Sammy. "I'll say it very clearly and slowly for you then. What…did…Wilkerson… do to …Sam?"

It was the brunette, Lisa, who finally spoke up. "We had a party at the beach-that's all. Sam came with Jake and Jeff."

Dean let go of Dana and glared at her friend. "And?"

The girl shrugged-not quite as intimidated as her companion. "And we hung out-blowing off steam-you know." Her eyes were glassy and blood shot. She gave Dean a deceptively innocent smile.

Dean took a deep breath and willed his hands to stay steady and away from around the blue-blooded bitch's throat. "My brother thinks a five mile run for no reason or reading a freakin' novel he's not been assigned at schoolis blowing off steam-not partying with a bunch of strung out losers."

Again the brunette shrugged. "Sam's a nice guy."

That only seemed to make Dean angrier and he grabbed hold of the chair the girl was sitting in and gave it a hard shake. So much for being subtle. "He's too damnnice for his own good sometimes but he wouldn't have gotten into a car with trash like Wilkerson if the sonuvabitch was drinking."

"Sam was out of it," Dana piped in. "He was messed up."

Dean glared at her. "And I suppose giant mermaids were coming up out of the water and flopping around in the sand too-huh?"

The brunette sighed as if she were bored with all the drama and Dean began to realize she was more than a little wasted. "Look, man-Jeff doctored his drink. Get off our cases."

Even though he had suspected it, the confession sent a wash of cold fury over Dean-like he'd been hit with a bucket of ice water. "He did what?"

"It was just a joke," Dana added, as if that explained everything. "Sam's so straight laced and up-tight. Jeff was just having some fun with him."

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and he shook it off, fighting the urge to slap the idiotic smirk off Dana's face. "What did he give him?"

"Dean." Marty had been watching the confrontation and came over when it seemed to take a turn for the worse. He'd known the kid hadn't been offering his words of concern to Wilkerson's girl, but he was now afraid that Dean might push things a little too far-especially in light of what he'd just heard Lisa Henderson admit to. "Let the police handle this."

Dean ignored him. "Tell me!" Sam was far from stupid. He wouldn't have trusted Wilkerson.

"GHB." Again it was Dana's high friend that came clean. "I don't know how much."

The hunter stood up, brushing past Marty and going straight to the nurse who had tried to stop him only a little while before. "Tell the doctors working on my brother-Sam Winchester- that he was dosed with GHB."

The nurse looked up from her computer screen and frowned at the young man. When she didn't move quick enough to suit him, Dean slammed his fist down on the counter in front of her. "Now! Damn it."

"Dean!" John had just made his way back into the ER waiting room after taking a moment to collect himself and was greeted with the sight of his oldest in full on rage mode.

He had his hands wrapped in Dean's jacket before he could stop himself-frustration and worry finding a perfect target in his irrational acting son. "Back off."

"Dad-you don't understand."

_I don't understand! _John saw red. He slammed Dean up against the white block wall behind them and held him there. "Stop acting like a teenage punk and get a grip before I send you home."

A look of hurt flashed through Dean's red-rimmed eyes, but it was quickly replaced with one of defiance. "Yeah, like that's going to happen. Nobody is making me leave here until I know Sam's okay." _Not even you. _

"Take it easy, John." Marty came up behind the two Winchesters ready to break them up if need be. He'd thought when he'd resigned fromthe force that he'd left such domestic drama behind him. Apparently not. "Dean was trying to give the nurse some information about Sam."

The tow truck driver looked at the woman. "Call them Martha. What the boy said is true. Tell them that Sam took GHB."

"He didn't _take_ it," Dean spat heatedly and his father finally released him. The younger hunter straightened his jacket and looked at his father. "Wilkerson drugged him."

John turned away from his son and faced Collins. "He did what?"

"He apparently gave him GHB at the party."

"What the hell is that?" John asked, never having heard of the initialed substance. Was it some kind of new drink?

Marty sighed. "Originally-it was an illegal muscle builder. Now-it's a highly popular party drug. Comes in liquid or powder. Big rush. Colorless. Odorless. Nearly undetectable and deadly as hell."

"Liquid ecstasy," Dean spoke up behind his father and the man turned on him as if he were something demonic.

"What?" How the hell did one of his children know what GHB was? He'd laid down the law from an extremely early age that alcohol and drugs would not be a part of either of his son's lives. Do as I say-not as I do was the creed.

Dean shrugged, looking all too knowledgeable and confident for his father's liking. It was almost the lookhe got when he talked about cars or weapons. "Salty Water, Poor Man's Heroin," he laughed bitterly, "Easy Lay-that's my favorite. It has lots of names, Dad, but Sammy wouldn't know anything about it."

"Goddamnit!" John rubbed harshly at his eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with kids these days?" Sneaking cigarettes and an occasional beer was big time when he and his brother Richard were teenagers.

He glanced wearily at the nurses station when she hung up the phone and cleared her throat to draw their attention. "I gave Dr. Daniels the information. He said to tell you that they had managed to stabilize your son and that someone would be to speak with you as soon as possible."

John nodded to the woman and roughly took hold of his oldest son's jacket and led them both to some chairs lining the wall. He shoved Dean down in one and received an expected glare for his trouble. Marty joined them.

"I take it Sam wasn't doing too well."

John sat down and shook his head. "No-he wasn't."

"I know this doesn't mean much, but it could have been worse, John." Marty swallowed hard as an image of Jake McGhee's mangled body solidified in his mind's eye. "It could have been much worse."

Dean ignored the men as they talked-choosing to focus on the evil clock on the wall in front of him. He was sure the damn hands were bewitched as they slowly crept around the face-slower and slower-like some strange time warped reality.

He was aware that Dana and her burned-out friend was staring at him. It gave him little satisfaction that somewhere in the hospital Wilkerson and the other punk were being treated. If they were able to walk away from the crash then they were no where close to being in the shape Sam was in. Dean would rectify that though.

_Jesus. _He raked a hand through his hair-trying to get the picture of Sam's convulsing body out of his mind. The look of pure terror that had been in Sam's eyes.

His brother didn't scare easy, and was damn good at handling pain. Better than he should have been. And the raw emotions written all over his face was something that Dean hadn't witnessed in years and it was eating away at him now.

Dean's job was to protect Sam. He'd made that promise to himself years ago-and to his dead mother-but most importantly, he'd made it to his baby brother. The baby brother he'd rocked to sleep on countless nights, the one he'd tucked into bed and told stories to. The same little brother he'd taught to throw a football and baseball, and to swim, and to ride a bike. _Shit. __Did I not teach him to look out for guys like Wilkerson? _

The thought of the punk who'd caused all this sent another wave of fury over the hunter and he longed to get up and throw a punch at the wall or at the very least to pace the floor. But one glance at his father and he knew the big man would be all over his ass again. Dean's hyperactivity and impatience wasn't shared with his father or Sam. They could drive him fucking crazy with their calmness.

Instead of physical action he let his mind run through the ways he could torture Wilkerson. Despite the strict code of ethics about the sanctity of human life shit that John had instilled in both his sons, Dean was afraid that Jeff's luck was about to run out. After all, Dean had been trained to protect the innocent and the afraid from the evils of the world.

Sam was innocent, afraid _and _hurt. And Wilkerson was evil. That pretty much summed it up for Dean.

He'd been working it all out in his head for almost an hour before the doors finally opened and the young doctor who had let Dean stay with Sam for the moments before the attack walked out.

"Mr. Winchester?"

John stood, only seconds behind Dean. "How's my son, Doctor?"

Dr. Daniels motioned for the men to take a seat again and he grabbed one of the uncomfortable yellow contraptions and slid it around to face them.

He sat down and took a deep breath as if he was about to launch into an all too familiar and unpleasant speech. "Sam is being taken down to surgery as we speak. His arm has a compound fracture and it needed to be taken care of."

"Why do I get the feeling that's the least of my concern?"

Dean looked at his father as the man spoke and then glanced back at Daniels. "Because it is, Mr. Winchester. Your son experienced a significant blunt trauma to the head. The force of it sent his brain colliding with the skull." The doctor used his curled fist as demonstration-striking itagainst his other open palm with some force.

Dean flinched.

"When that happens-you get severe bruising and sometimes bleeding into the cranial cavity-causing a lot of pressure to build."

"Is that what caused the seizure?" Dean finally found his voice, and didn't give a shit that his dad looked irritated that he had joined in the conversation unbidden.

Daniels looked at him. "Seizures are not uncommon in a brain trauma. Basically, your brother experienced what used to be called a Grand Mal seizure. We now refer to it as a Tonic-clonic seizure-and I'll be honest with you-it's not reassuring."

The physician looked at John now. "Basically a head injury disrupts the pathways of the brain causing -in layman's terms- a short circuit of sorts of the brain's electrical functions."

"But you said this was normal?" Again Dean interrupted-searching for some kind of reassurance he wasn't getting from the doctor's dumb-downed spill.

Daniel's nodded. "About 5 percent of concussions can cause seizures, but when there is severe bruising that number jumps to about 50 percent."

"So, my son's injury is severe?"

"That's where things get a little cloudy," he looked at Dean again, "in light of the information we got." Daniels sighed. "Gamma Hydroxy Butyrate- GHB-is very toxic to the brain. It can cause the same types of side effects as a severe concussion. The vomiting, blacking out, disorientation and aggressive behavior. It can also cause severe seizures followed by coma. Until I can get the blood workup back-I won't be able to properly rule out what exactly Sam is suffering from."

"Coma?" That was the word that lashed out at Dean. "Are you saying my brother's in a coma?"

"Yes."

Dean felt as if the doctor had punched him quick and hard in the gut. "Does that mean…"

Daniels held up a hand to cut him off. "That means that his body has shut down to recover-whether it was drug induced or traumatic in nature-I'm not sure yet." He stared hard at Dean. "I'm taking heart in the fact that your brother recognized you-he spoke coherently to you-that's a very positive sign."

When Dean didn't reply, John cut in. "What are your treatment plans?"

The doctor moved his eyes back to Sam's father. The man was a picture of calm determination, although worry was easily read in his dark eyes. "After surgery, we're going to monitor his cerebral pressure. If necessary we can perform a CSF drainage. We could also use a high dose of barbiturate therapy to relieve the pressure if need be, but that could be highly risky considering he already has an unknown amount of drugs in his system."

_Damn Jeff Wilkerson to hell. _"Is my brother going to be alright?" That was all Dean cared about. He could give a flying fuck about the medical mumbo jumbo that the guy was spewing. All that mattered was him saying five little words-Sam's going to be fine.

"He has a good chance, son."

Dean felt like screaming at the man that he wasn't his son- and that his answer wasn't acceptable- but instead he clinched his fists and held his tongue.

"How long will the surgery last?"

How the fuck could John be so calm? Dean wanted to strangle him.

"No more than an hour. We have an excellent orthopedics staff. Sam should have full use of his arm after some follow up therapy."

_If he wakes up from the coma! _Dean could feel the rage building, pulsing through his body like a sledgehammer. His hearing started to cut out and in.

"When can we see him?"

Dean heard his father's voice as if it were from far off. Black spots danced in his peripheral vision.

"As soon as we have him back from recovery, I'll send someone for you. We'll be keeping him in ICU."

Dr. Daniel's stood at the same time the doors to the ER treatment area opened again. An older man dressed in an expensive suit walked through them, followed by another doctor and a young freckle-faced police officer.

But all of them faded into the background as Jeff Wilkerson emerged.

He was flanked by another boy and both of them sported stark white bandages on their heads, and various band-aides on their faces.

The man in the suit and the officer were talking-smiling.

Dean stood, unnoticed by his father and Marty who were still talking with Daniels.

It wouldn't have mattered. At this point, it would have taken an army to keep Dean from getting a hold of Jeff Wilkerson.

Jeff noticed Dean less than a moment before Winchester threw the first punch.

It was delivered with such force that Wilkerson heard his ears ring and blood exploded from somewhere. He would have hit the floor even if Dean hadn't tackled him, sending them both sliding across the slick tiled surface- smashing through chairs as if they were life sized bowling pins.

"I'm going to kill you!" Dean growled, as he drove his fist into Wilkerson's face again. "You no good sonuvabitch."

The impact of each blow fed Dean's thirst for vengeance. The fact that Jeff was struggling and whimpering beneath him fueled his hunger to inflict just as much pain on him as Sam had gone through.

Maybe if he hit him hard enough Jeff would have a seizure. Maybe Jeff would throw up all over himself and black out. Maybe if he applied just enough pressure Dean could snap the bones in Wilkerson's arms.

He'd just wrapped both his fists in Wilkerson's shaggy blond hair and had begun to beat his head up against the floor when he finally noticed the hands on him-tearing at him-prying him off of the now nearly unconscious teen.

Dean's hearing slowly returned-the ringing subsiding enough for him to hear the shouts and screams coming from around him.

He heard his father's voice. "Dean-you're killing him."

Dean felt like laughing hysterically. _Duh, Dad-did you think you raised an amateur?_

Jeff's old man and the other kid was yelling. Doctors were scurrying. Stupid Dana was crying. _Bitch. _Wonder how much she'd cry at McGhee's funeral. _Or Sam's. _

With inhuman strength Dean tore free from his father and Marty and lashed out with his feet this time. He'd managed to land several well-placed kicks to Wilkerson's side and head, when he felt a fist slam into his own face.

His head snapped back but he didn't feel the pain that the well placed punch delivered.

Arms were around him again, pushing him away from Wilkerson who was rolling around on the ground moaning. _Fucking pussy. _

Another punch caught him on the chin this time and he went down to his knees-some of the red haze that had surrounded him started to fade.

"Let me go," he heard himself screaming. When had he started screaming. "I'm going to finish the bastard!"

Then a muscled arm was around his throat, pressure was knowledgeablyappliedto his neck.

As he was denied precious oxygen he thought he heard his father mumble something about being sorry. _Damn right you're sorry. _

He saw a bright light. _Was that Sam waiting for him? _And then the darkness claimed him, and he saw nothing at all.

Chapter 6-Coming Soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Where We Find God

Chapter 6

By: Ridley

Author's notes: The kind words and wonderful reviews I receive from this fandom still amaze me. Thanks to everyone!

Dean's first thought as he slowly regained consciousness was that he had definitely ended up on the bad side of a hunt.

His head felt heavy and thick as if he'd been drinking way too much the night before.

His sluggish arms and legs didn't seem to want to respond nor did his eyelids want to cooperate. But something urgent at the edge of his memory demanded that he try harder.

Harsh overhead lights greeted him and he was instantly aware of a presence near him.

Years of training kicking in as his acute senses recognized it as someone unfamiliar.

Cautiously, he turned his head and as he caught sight of the man in the chair all the events leading up to this latest Dean Winchester debacle came crashing down on him.

Sitting up quickly after being choked out and apparently _drugged_ wasn't the smartest idea and Dean had to fight the urge to toss his cookies all over the lovely white tiled floors of the hospital.

"'Bout time you came around, kid?"

Dean glared at the police officer and tried to run his hand through his hair only to find it handcuffed to one of the metal bar railings of the bed.

He sighed, and swallowed hard. His throat hurt like hell. "Where's my father?"

"He's in ICU."

_Sam. _"Is my brother alright?"

The officer shrugged nonchalantly and Dean felt worry and anger clear aside the last of the fog hovering around his thoughts.

"I want to talk to his doctor." Dean lifted his hand and jerked against the restraints. "And why the hell am I cuffed?"

"You attacked a seventeen year old kid in front of several eye witnesses including his father, the D.A., and a sheriff's deputy-which would be me. You're lucky that you didn't come to on a cot in a jail cell."

"Did I kill Wilkerson?"

The young officer looked slightly taken aback. "No."

"Then I'd say that he's the lucky one."

"Are you telling me that you were trying to kill Jeff Wilkerson?"

"No, he is not, Billy." Marty entered the room in time to hear Officer Metz ask the incriminating question. "The boy was upset." He glanced to Dean and then back to Bill. "He was worried about his kid brother. Wilkerson was the one driving the car-while drinking- if my memory serves me well."

Metz's face reddened. "This isn't any of your concern, Marty. I think you turned your badge in several years ago-if _my_ memory serves me well."

Marty shrugged off the snide reply. "I was arresting drunks and handing out parking citations when you were still nursing your mama's tit."

The young cop pointed accusingly at Dean. "If you're so smart and seasoned then you should know that this kid committed aggravated assault if not attempted murder -on a minor no less."

"And if you didn't have your head shoved so far up Wilkerson's ass then you would know that Jeff committed a DUI offense- as well as vehicular homicide no less."

Metz didn't have to reply. They both knew what he was thinking.

The situations were worlds apart.

Dean's daddy wasn't some hotshot attorney and John sure the hell didn't have the money to get his son out of a speeding ticket let along a more serious charge.

"It's not up to us to be judge and jury."

Collins started to reply that it wasn't up to Wilkerson's wallet either, but Dean cut him off.

"I hate to interrupt this freaky territory marking ritual you two have going on, but I want to know about my brother." He ignored the heated glares the two men were exchanging and focused on Marty. "Is Sam okay? How'd the surgery go? How long have I been out?"

Collins held up his hand to hold off the barrage. "Sam came through surgery fine. Your father's with him. You've been out of it for a while. It's about 9:00."

Dean shook his head not believing that he'd slept through something as important as Sam's surgery-of course it wasn't like he'd chose to do so.

Marty stepped closer to the bed when he saw the pained look flash across the younger man's face. "How you feeling?" The tow truck driver touched his own face and then nodded to Dean's. "That looks like it smarts."

Dean brought his free hand up to his cheek. The skin was hot to the touch and swollen. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip feeling the small split and tasting the lingering trace of blood. But he could deal with physical pain. "Yeah, Dad knows how to throw one hell of a punch."

Collins smiled, remembering the way Jeff Wilkerson had looked as they drug him back into the ER to be patched up again. "Like father, like son." He had a feeling that he wouldn't want to meet any of the Winchesters in a back alley-especially Dean.

"Can I go see Sam now?"

It was the officer that answered. "No way. You're in my custody. The only reason your punk ass isn't in jail is because your old man choked you out and one of the doctors sedated you."

"I wasn't fucking talking to you, Barney Fife."

Bill stood angrily, his hand going to his side and Marty gave have him and incredulous look.

"Back off, Metz. You might want to read the kids his rights before you shoot him."

"I read him his rights."

"If he was unconscious it doesn't count."

"I know that."

"I want to see Sam," Dean interrupted loudly, tired of listening to the bickering that was doing nothing for the hangover-type headache he had.

Collins felt for the kid as he watched him physically struggle to swallow his pride. "Please let me go see Sam." He looked at Billy and clenched his jaw. "I won't give you any trouble. I just want to see my brother."

Billy got a smug look on his face and his back straightened as if he had won some victory-the number one contestant in this giant pissing contest. "The only way you'll be seeing your brother, Winchester, is if he checks himself out of here in time for your court date. And that don't seem likely."

Dean lunged at the man, getting a little satisfaction when the officer jerked back and nearly stumbled over the chair that he'd been sitting in. "Damn it! You can't hold me here. Let me see my brother."

Collins stepped in between them, blocking Dean's view of Metz. "Listen to me." He waited for Dean to meet his gaze. "I put a call into the Sheriff. He said I could take you up to see Sam, but then you'd have to come into the station."

"Hey, that's not going to happen. He's _my _prisoner." Bill suddenly sounded like an eight year old who'd just had his ice cream cone snatched away.

Marty rolled his eyes. "Don't get your panties in a wad, Metz. You can have the honor of taking this dangerous criminal in, I just got permission to escort him to see his brother."

"I don't believe you."

Collins turned on the younger man. "Me and Harvey go way back. I may not have Wilkerson's money to buy me a police officer like he does, but I saved the big man's life and he owes me. So you can take it up with him, but I'm taking Dean to see Sam, so hand over the cuff key."

Billy looked uncertain for a moment but then pulled the keys from his belt. "I'll release him from the bed, but the cuffs stay on." He glared at Dean. "And I'm reading you your rights before you go, just in case you get in wild ideas."

_Like that will make a difference. _"Yes, sir," Dean smirked. "I wouldn't want you to blow your big bust on a technicality."

Marty shot him a look. "Don't make this harder, kid."

Dean frowned. "Apparently my dad never told you much about me."

Metz released the handcuff from the bed but immediately placed it around Dean's left wrist, pushing it as tight as it would go. He quickly ran through Dean's rights- the twenty-one year old making it obvious he wasn't paying attention. When he was finished he looked at the tow truck driver. "I'll give you fifteen minutes."

"We'll take it." Collins took Dean by the arm and practically pulled him from the bed and out of the room before he could say anything further. Once they were out the door, Marty let go of him. "You sure know how to piss people off, son."

Dean shrugged. "It's a talent of mine."

Marty raised an eyebrow. "I can see that."

The young hunter glanced at him as they continued down the hall. "You didn't really talk to the sheriff, did you? You were lying."

Collins grinned. "Yeah. It's a talent of mine."

John had always been sure his family had some bizarre talent for attracting trouble on a grand scale, but the previous night had convinced him that they might be cursed after all.

Not only was Sam hooked up to more machines than it took to run a diagnostic on those fancy imported cars these days, but Dean was under arrest.

The hunter ran both hands through his dark hair and then rubbed at his tired eyes. He hadn't had any sleep in over twenty-four hours and it was starting to catch up with him. Maybe _he_ should give someone good reason to choke him out.

He'd nearly drifted off about an hour ago, letting the beeping of the monitors lull his mind away from the present turmoil, but then a nurse had entered the room and he had berated her with questions about Sam's condition. Questions that she couldn't or wouldn't answer.

John sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, letting his eyes rest on his youngest son.

Except for the darkening bruises and the newly casted arm, Sam looked as if he were merely asleep.

But John understood enough of what Dr. Daniels had told him earlierto know that a coma was more than a state of simply being deeply asleep. The patient couldn't respond to stimuli like the sound of their name or even pain. He'd demonstrated that one with a needle and Sam's foot. Not something a parent likes to witness, but it had driven the point home. Literally.

But they could still have reflexive movement, and many patients that awoke ,or _emerged_ as the doctor had put it, from comas reported that they could recall almost everything that had gone around them. So, Daniels had encouraged him to talk to Sam.

John had nearly laughed at that. He and Sam rarely _talked _these days unless you counted shouting and vulgar expletives as talking. Somehow an argument just wasn't the type of one-sided conversation that you carried on in moments like these. Not without being kicked out of the ICU ward anyway. What kind of person yells at their comatose child? _The same kind that places him in danger on a daily basis._

So,John didn't feel like talking, but he did do the next best thing. He'd read to Sam-out of his journal of all things. It was the only book he'd had with him. Sometimes the words written in the leather bound pages were the only things that kept John going- maybe they'd do the same for Sam. At least until Dean could take over.

As much as the hunter hated to admit it, Dean knew how to get through to Sam. Always had. And right now, John couldn't help but to hope his oldest son could work some of that magic very soon, and he'd have his little family put back together again. It was scary sometimes how much he depended on his oldest boy. Maybe he'd leaned on Dean way too much.

His morose line of thinking was interrupted as the door to Sam's room opened and the son in question entered, looking a little worse for wear.

"Hey, Ace," John said softly. "Bout time you got here."

Dean glanced at his father but continued walking towards Sam's bed. "How is he?"

John stood and groaned as his knees and back protested. He made it to the other side of the bed with some effort. "Hanging in there. The doc says that the coma may be lighter than he thought. The pressure thing is looking good, so they're hopeful that it's an after effect of the drug and not some sort of physical trauma."

"That's good." Dean seemed unable or unwilling to remove his eyes from his lifeless brother. "So he's going to be okay?"

"I hope so, son." The oldest Winchester took in the condition of the younger man. Dean's clothes had blood on them, whether it was Sam's, Wilkerson's or his, John wasn't sure. His cheek and eye were swollen and bruised, and his lip was busted. He looked like he'd ended up on the wrongside of a bar fight-which had happened on occasion when his son's pool hustling had caught up with him.

John looked down at his own hands and had to wrap them around the rail of Sam's bed to keep them from shaking. "You feeling alright?"

Dean finally lifted his eyes to the other man's and there was a touch of amusement there in the green depths. "You mean after you beat the crap out of me and choked me out."

His father sighed heavily, feeling a hint of irritation scratching at his emotions. Sometimes Dean's sense of humor eluded him. "It's better than what would have been done to you in prison. Trust me."

A faint crooked smile tugged at Dean's mouth. "Then I guess I should thank you."

"Thank me by staying with your brother while I go get some coffee. I'm dead on my feet."

Dean held up his hands rattling the cuffs. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

John nodded. "We'll see about that."

The young hunter watched his dad leave before pulling up a chair and sitting down as close as he could to Sam's bed. Sam was so pale and quiet that it was eerie and it scared the shit out of him. Dean remembered times when they were little, that he'd poke Sam or punch him to wake him up-just to make sure he was still breathing. Dean, himself, never slept very soundly-always wary of the night and what it could bring. Or maybe-what it could take.

He maneuvered his restrained hands through the rails and wrapped his fingers around his brother's wrist, careful of the IV that was in Sam's hand, but needing some kind of physical contact to reassure himself. "Hey, Sammy. This is some fine mess you've gotten us into."

Dean hadn't expected Sam to respond, but it still hurt when painful silence followed his own voice. "You're really starting to freak me out here, pal. You need to wake up and make some smartass remark about this brilliant shiner I've got going on."

He laughed. "We both look like we've gone a couple of rounds with Tyson. Don't get me wrong, you look a whole hell of a lot worse than me, but that's typical-huh?"

Dean leaned in closer, resting his chin on the rail. He lowered his voice despite the fact that he and Sam were alone. "Come on, Sammy, you got to fight this, alright? It was just a little car accident. You've had worse from a pissed off poltergeist."

"Besides how much fun will I have with you not around. I mean, I love the guy, but Dad just doesn't _get_ me, Sammy. Without youto take care of, I might just outlive my usefulness to him if you know what I mean. Hell, you've only been out of it a few hours and we've already come to blows."

The twenty-one year old forced a grim smile and squeezed the other boy's wrist tighter. "I need you, little brother. So, you've got to open your eyes so I can end this really sickening Waltons moment we have going on here-got it."

The annoying loud beep of the heart monitor was really starting to piss Dean off. He sighed and withdrew his hands, shoving them through his mussed hair. "Damn it, Sam, Dad needs you too. He might not say it, but I don't think he could handle it if something happened to you." _I know I couldn't. _"Don't even think about running out on us."_ I won't let you._

There was still no reply, no movement, and Dean stood up from the chair frustrated with the situation and feeling his least favorite thing-helpless. This was cosmic bullshit-fate screwing them over yet again. If anyone should be laying unconscious in a hospital bed it should have been Wilkerson.

If anyone should have died, it should have been that fucking idiot driving the car.

But now Sam's only friend in the stinking town was dead, and his brother was doing a damn good imitation of coma boy.

_Damn it to hell. _

Dean would have took his frustration out on the wall if he'd been able to throw a punch with the cuffs on. Instead he sat back down and buried his head in his hands and did something he hadn't done since he was a little boy-he prayed.

"How's Sam?" Marty had been waiting for John just outside the door, and the two moved towards the elevators together.

"The same." John pushed the button for the car. "Thanks for bringing Dean up. Hell-thanks for staying through this whole mess." He looked at the other man. "You don't even know us that well."

"I had a family once."

John raised an eyebrow, neverhaving recalled hearing the other man mention a wife or kids.

Marty looked relieved when the doors to the lift opened. "Saved by the bell." He smiled and motioned John on in front of him.

Winchester didn't ask for further details, somehow recognizing the pain hidden in the simple admission. "No matter the reason, I appreciate your help."

"I don't know how much I helped. Dean could be in some real trouble here."

"Wilkerson has the law in his back pocket, doesn't he?" John already knew the answer.

"I'm afraid so. This is a small town, John. Big fish-little pond."

"And my son is the worm on the hook."

Marty laughed. "No-your son is more like a shark out of water."

John smiled in spite of himself. "He has got a temper, and a dislike for the law I'm afraid." The hunter shook his head. "I'm not sure where he got it from."

"I think I have an idea."

The elevator opened again, allowing them to exit onto the first floor where smells from the cafeteria had John's stomach grumbling. "I can't let my son go to jail."

Marty nodded, and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "If I thought he'd get a fair trial, I'd tell you to do just that." Empathetic blue eyes met the determined dark gaze. "But I can't promise you that your son would even make it to court. Wilkerson has strong ties to bigger enterprises-he won't take kindly to what Dean did."

"But his son killed another boy-drugged and nearly killed _my_ son." John lowered his voice as some of the patrons in line stared at him. "There has to be a penalty for that, Marty. All anyone seems to care about is the fact that Dean kicked the little bastard's ass. He had it coming."

"I wish I could tell you for certain that there would be justice, John, but I can't. It's one of the reasons I left the force. Even as a State Trooper, I couldn't touch the Wilkersons, and believe me I had reason to want to."

"Then what am I suppose to do?"

Marty picked up two cups of coffee and put them on the hunter's tray. He looked at John and nodded to a far corner table where Officer Billy Metz sat with his back towards them. "You're going to treat the good officer over there to a cup of coffee, and a donut." Collins picked up a pastry and tossed it on the tray.

John took some bills out of his wallet and handed them to the cashier, still feeling a little confused. Collins picked up the serving of food and winked at Winchester. "I'll keep him busy for as long as I can."

"You could get in trouble for this."

Marty laughed. "Nah, Dean's Billy's prisoner-not mine. I'm just the fucking tow truck driver."

Chapter 7-Coming Soon


	7. Chapter 7

Where We Find God

Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, let's try to get back on track here. Thanks to those of you who have continued to review this story. I'll try to be more up to date with the postings, now that Negative Effect is slowly coming to a close. I honestly meant this thing as a one shot, but you know where that got me-written into a tight little corner, is where! Ugggh, I hate that feeling.

When the door to his brother's room opened, Dean lifted his head from his hands, fully expecting to see either his father or maybe Marty, but it was one of Sam's doctors, Daniels, the one who'd explained his brother's condition to them.

"Don't get up," the dark-haired, lanky man motioned for Dean to remain sitting when the hunter had started to manuever himself from the chair by Sam's bed. "You look like you might fall over, and I really am sick of patching up teenagers today."

Dean merely nodded and watched as the doctor made his way to the other side of Sam's bed and started checking his brother's vitals, and the various equipment that the injured teen was hooked to.

"How is he?"

Daniels lifted his eyes from his inspection of the extremely bruised area of Sam's temple. "He's holding his own." The doctor sighed, and after scribbling something inthe chart he was carrying, he made his way to where Dean was sitting. "How about you?"

Dean looked slightly taken aback. "I'm good," he answered automatically, ignoring the doubtful expression on the physician's face.

The doctor squatted next to him and removed a pen light from his pocket. "Any residual effects from the sedative that I gave you?"

Dean's brow furrowed. "So you're the one that drugged me- without my consent?"

Daniels lip twitched and Dean was pretty certain he was struggling not to smile, but he nodded thoughtfully and didn't bother to ask Dean's permission before shining the light in each of his eyes. "When you were charging around my ER like a mad bull, I didn't think too much about the ethical considerations of my actions. I did however hope that you weren't allergic to anything."

"Yeah, well, I appreciate the concern, I guess I'm lucky you didn't try to dose me with penicillin. But I'm beginning to think this whole town has a problem with boundaries."

The young doctor glanced at Sam, and put his torture device away. "You believe that the Wilkerson boy doctored your brother's drink, don't you?"

"Yes," Dean barely controlled the rage that simmered up inside of him at the very mention of Jeff's name. He instead focused on the renewed pain that Daniels was causing as he prodded at Dean's swollen eye.

"Your dad has a hell of a swing." The doctor shook his head at the damage done to the kid's face. "You're lucky he didn't break something."

"He was holding back," Dean stated truthfully, knowing full well what his father was capable of.

Daniels raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've gone a few rounds with him before?"

Dean stared at the physician, instantly picking up on the veiled question. "My daddy doesn't hit me-if that's what you're getting at, Dude." The hunter's eyes went to Sam. "And he's never hurt my brother-so you can forget the call to DCS."

"Your brother has a lot of interesting scars and old breaks." Daniels had been witness to the atrocity of child abuse on more occasions that he would have liked in his ten years as a physician. Sam was a prime specimen. "I'm guessing if I X-rayed you, I'd find a lot similar injuries.

Dean pulled back from the man's too-close inspection of the cut above his eye. "Back off, Quincy. Whatever you're thinking is way out of line. Sammy and I are really into adrenaline packed sports-you know. Snow boarding, free-base jumping, motor cross-if it involves danger, we've been into it at one time or another. Nobody has abused us."

Daniels sighed and stood up, realizing that he wasn't going to get any more of an explanation out of the young man. He leaned up against Sam's bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, your brother's a risk taker, but you're positive he didn't take drugs on his own-maybe for a thrill."

"Hell no!" Dean stood also. "My brother doesn't mess with that shit."

"I'm sorry, kid, but you've just painted a picture for me that leads me to believe that my patient has a taste for all things exciting and life-risking and now you want me to accept that he draws an impenetrable line at drugs and alcohol." Daniels pinned the younger man with a hard stare. "If Sam uses other substances, I need to know. It could affect his recovery."

Dean shook his head, not believing the fucking luck he was attracting. His eyes stung and he cursed the damn drugs still in his system and the wild rollercoaster ride his emotions were on. "Sammy doesn't use anything harder than caffeine. He's a coffee junkie, okay. That's it. And even then-he can't handle the hard stuff. Has to have cream, and sugar and syrupy flavors that in fact can be damn right embarrassing to order."

When Daniels merely continued to look at him, Dean stepped closer to Sam's bed, and held onto the rails, his knuckles whitening with his intense grip. "My brother's not perfect, but he's damn near." Dean glanced at the physician. "Straight A student- scary smart-you know. And his heart's just as about as big as they come. He does have this annoying fault though-he likes to believe that most people are decent-that they have an undeniable right to certain liberties-like breathing. It gets him in trouble."

"I take it that you don't buy into that same principle."

Dean snorted. "I have my own belief system. It being that the innocent need to be protected. It gets him out of trouble."

"So your brother's completely innocent?"

Dean turned to face the doctor, his fierce stare daring him to say differently. "In my eyes."

"Love is blind, son." Daniels glanced to Sam. "And it's obvious that you love your brother-a lot. But you wouldn't believe the parents who have sworn to me that their child would never touch anything illegal, even after I've shown them needle marks and toxicology reports that would make a heroine junkie look somewhat inhibited."

Dean's frustration was swiftly rising to exasperation. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that I have a bias when it comes to him," Dean glanced at the still form of his little brother, and silently laughed at that huge understatement, "but I'm telling you the truth about this. Sam has never taken drugs. Never! And all that other risk-taking shit, well you can pin that on me. Because I'm to blame for most of those scars and old wounds." _Every single one of them. _

Daniels finally nodded. "Let me get this straight-just so we're clear. Your dad doesn't abuse you or your brother, and Sam doesn't do drugs, but is in fact, pretty much an all around super kid. But you-you're a black and white, hit first-ask questions later, punk-ass, Evel Knievel, kind of guy?"

"Yep, that about sums it up." Dean smirked. "But I have a really good sense of humor and a great face to even things out."

Daniels shook his head. "Keep getting into fights with your old man and you might not have that last thing going for you."

"Enough about me already." Dean nodded to his brother. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Honestly, he's doing better than I thought. The coma is lighter than I first believed, which leads me to think that it has more to do with the GHB than the blunt trauma."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Well, that's why I wanted to know about the other drugs."

"Other drugs? You found other drugs?"

Daniels nodded. "Oxycodone, better known as oxycontin. It's an opiate, and…"

"I know what the hell it is," Dean started putting two and two together, his desire to hurt Wilkerson notched up to blood lust. "How much was in his system?"

"Enough."

"What are you saying here, Doc?"

"That I don't think whoever gave your brother the GHB was kidding around."

"Wilkerson planned on killing my brother?"

"I can't say that for certain, kid. But if what you tell me about Sam being completely clean is true-then I can't imagine him willingly eating that many pain pills. He's damn lucky that the GHB or the concussion caused him to be so sick-seeing as how nature's stomach pump saved his life."

"Damn it," Dean sighed. "I'm going to kill that bastard."

"How about you let the courts handle it for a change." Daniels jutted his chin to Dean's cuffed wrists. "Seeing as how taking the law into your own hands has worked out so very well for you."

"And you think the law is going to take care of someone like Wilkerson?" Dean snorted. "The wealthy slide right out of these things." He jiggled the metal restraints. " I think it's all that grease, that we call money."

Daniels fixed him with another hard stare. "Listen to me. I ran tests on Wilkerson and his pal. There blood levels were way over the legal limit. He's not going to get away with murdering that other kid."

"But what about Sam?"

"I can testify."

"To what? That Sam had high levels of illegal drugs in his system, and that his big brother swore he didn't take them on his own." Dean shook his head. "You said it yourself people live in a little place called _Denial. _No one's going to take my word over Jeff Wilkerson's."

"I'm guessing that there were other kids at the party. If you can get them to come forward…"

"Talking about denial…" Dean said loudly. "Have you met the kids that live in this area? They aren't going to risk their necks for Sam. He's nothing to them. Do you know how many punks I had to threaten just so my brother could safely walk in that place they call a high school?"

The naïve look on Daniels face told Dean that the man had more than likely had the same upbringing, and had no fucking clue as to what he was talking about. "Let me make it clear for you. We live on the beach, right outside of Barsfield-which is a fucking foreign country to these people. To paint you a picture, the minority level there shoots up to about 65 percent , instead of the highly diverse 1 percent that makes up the cultural Mecca here."

"Our run down beach house, which was probably someone's quaint little vacation cottage at one time, is just inside the Morgana city limits. My dad didn't plan it that way-that's just the only thing we could afford on his part-time mechanic's salary, but it worked out well considering my genius little brother gets a decent chance at an ivy league school."

"I bust my ass cleaning up fish guts at that old dock out in Smyrna so that we can eat and so that Sam doesn't have to get his clothes from the Salvation Army. With what I make in the prosperous fishing industry I can buy him ones from Abberwhatzit and Fitch instead, that just _look_ like they come from a donation center. You see, apparently, clothes and cars and name brand shoes are a big part of whether or not you get to be included in the _it_ club these days, and although my brother really doesn't give a shit about that stuff-I do because I don't want him hurt."

Dean shook his head and clenched his fist, wishing like hell he could hit something, pissed off that he was rambling to this complete fucking stranger. "But that worked our real well now didn't it? I helped him fit into a crowd that apparently tried to kill him."

Daniels watched the younger man struggling to contain everything that he was feeling, all those raw fears and hurts simmering just below the surface, and he knew without a doubt that Sam's brother was telling him the truth-about everything.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dean snarled. "My family doesn't need your pity. We just need you to patch Sam up, and then I'll deal with the rest, because if you think we're going to get a fair shake in this whole deal, you need to pull your head out of that Malibu sand."

"I wasn't pitying you," Daniels denied. "But I will feel sorry for your brother if you go after Wilkerson."

Dean's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why's that?"

"It sounds like you take care of him. I'm guessing he depends on you-for a lot of things. What's going to happen if you go to prison, or if Wilkerson Sr. goes for revenge. Trust me-the old man has contacts."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't scare easily. Trust _me_ when I say that I've dealt with things much worse than an old man with his finger in the Al Capone pie."

"So you've got it all figured out?" Daniels shook his head at the kid's obstinacy. "I should expect more bleeding kids in my ER then?"

"That's up to Wilkerson. If he turns himself in like a good little boy, then there should be minimal cleanup."

"And if not?"

Dean shrugged. "You'll get a hefty insurance payoff."

Daniels started to say more when his pager went off. He grabbed it and read the number before glancing up at Dean. "I have to take this. You two going to be alright?"

Dean nodded. "Like I told you before, Dude, I'm good."

The doctor started for the door but then stopped and faced the hunter once more. "I almost forgot," he reached into his white coat pocket and pulled something from it. "One of the paramedics that brought Sam in gave this to me. Since he had to pry it from your brother's fingers, he figured it was important."

Dean clumsily reached out with his bound hands and took the offering, a lump springing to his throat, and his eyes betraying him once more. It was his protection charm. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

"You know, those kids-the ones like Wilkerson," Daniels waited for Dean to look up at him, "they might have a lot of things, a blue blood pedigree and extensive genealogy, but I doubt if they know half of what you and Sam know about being a family. Don't let your thirst for revenge ruin what you have-which is something no amount of money can buy."

Dean glanced back at the necklace in his hand, clasping his fingers around the smooth, cool metal, and when he lifted his eyes again the doctor was gone. With a tired sigh, the hunter found himself staring at his comatose brother once more. "I just hope Wilkerson hasn't already ruined it for us, Sammy." Dean tightened his grip on the pendant. "For his sake, and yours."

Chapter 8-coming soon.

A/A/N- I promise that I'm not trying to drag this out guys. It's just a warm up to get me back in the swing of this story. -Ridley


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dean once again looked up as the door to his brother's room swung open and his father entered.

"I didn't rate a coffee?" Dean asked with a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Don't tell me the whole bread and water thing has started already."

John ignored the comment and walked over to the nightstand. "I passed Sam's doctor. Is everything okay?"

The young hunter nodded. "About the same. Sammy's still doing his impression of one of those fairytale chicks that he lusted after as a kid. You'd think he'd pricked his finger or ate a bad apple."

His father was rummaging through his journal and only mumbled a response that Dean didn't quite catch.

"Is everything okay with you, Dad?"

Finally, John seemed to find what he was searching for, and he tossed the book back on the stand and started for his eldest. "Lay your hands up here." John nodded to the rails of Sam's bed and Dean caught sight of the paperclip in his father's hand.

"Uhh, Dad, is that such a good idea, considering Marty will be back up here any time now?"

"It was _Marty's_ idea."

Dean smiled. "Dude is growing on me more and more. How's he going to explain this to Barney Fife?"

"Well-you escaped-there's not much to say." John went to work on the lock with skilled precision.

Dean frowned. "But I'm not going anywhere." The first cuff fell away.

"Yes, you are." Another click and his son was a free man.

"The hell I am." Dean rubbed his sore wrists. "Sam is still out of it."

"And you being here isn't going to change that. Marty put his neck on the line to get you out of this."

"Where am I suppose to go?" Morgana was a small town. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot of places to hide.

"As far away from Morgana as you can. I'll call you when Sam and I are ready to leave."

"What?" _Leave. _"It's only December. Sam doesn't graduate until May."

"I'm sure arrangements can be made because of the accident. He can graduate early."

"You promised him that he could stay the whole year. Finish the AP classes that he wanted." _I promised him_.

"Yeah, well, none of us banked on this kind of trouble, now did we?"

"Sam didn't do this on purpose." Surely his father wasn't mad at Sam.

"I didn't say he did."

"Then why the hell are you punishing him?" Dean looked from his brother's lifeless body to John. "If you want to blame someone, blame me. I encouraged him to go out with those kids."

"I'm not trying to blame someone, Dean. I'm trying to keep you out of jail, and our family together."

"So this is _my_ fault now? Because I tore into Wilkerson?"

John sighed, and raked a hand through his hair. "That wasn't your smartest move."

"He did this." Dean gestured to the countless machines that his brother was hooked to. "Wilkerson put us here. He put Sam here."

"Your brother went to that party, Dean. They didn't kidnap him."

"But they drugged him, and from what the doctor said it sure the hell wasn't some kind of prank."

"What are you talking about?"

Dean sighed. "Sam's blood work came back. It was positive for GHB and Oxycodone."

"Isn't that some kind of pain killer?"

"Yeah, cancer patient level pain killer."

"Do you think that Wilkerson meant to overdose your brother?" John shook his head when Dean gave him a hell yeah I think he did it on purpose look. "What the hell is wrong with people?"

Dean hated to point out to his father that there was a lot of evil shit in the world that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Sometimes he thought the man only lived on the plane of existence where he hunted-everything else tuned out-good or bad.

"Now, do you get why I have to finish Wilkerson?"

John raised a brow. "You will do no such thing."

"He tried to kill Sammy."

"But he didn't."

Dean stepped back, as if his father had physically struck him. "And what if he had? Would you be out hunting him now?"

"God damn it, Dean! The boy is not a demon or a fucking poltergeist! He's a kid."

"I don't see the difference."

John blanched. Had he not made the boundaries clear enough? Could he have made such a fatal error ? He felt the room tilt as he steadily held his son's hard green gaze. "You will not go near that kid, Dean Mathew Winchester. Do you understand me? That's a fucking order."

After a long drawn out moment, Dean looked away. "I hear you."

"You will leave town and wait for my call, is that clear?"

Dean looked at Sam again. "I don't want to leave him."

The cold fury was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced now by the more recognizable, but still gut wrenching emotion of complete loyalty. John rubbed at his tired eyes and tried to get a reign of his own feelings. "You have no choice, son."

Dean stepped closer to the bed, his hand reaching out and sliding gently through Sam's hair. "Sorry, kiddo," he breathed, quietly, but John still heard.

"I'm going to the nurses station," the oldest Winchester waited for his eldest to look at him. "I want you gone when I get back, Ace. Disappear-like I taught you-got it?"

Dean nodded. "Will you call me?"

"As soon as he's awake."

"He will wake up. Right, Dad?"

"Yeah, Dean. He'll wake up."

The younger hunter watched him go, before turning back to face his kid brother. The only thing he could think of was the way Sam had looked at him when he'd first came into the ER examination room last night.

His kid brother had been terrified, and in pain, and even though Dean couldn't help with the latter, his presence had taken away some of the fear. The older boy had instantly recognized the relief that had flooded Sam's expressive brown eyes. He'd seen it a thousand times, when Sam would wake from a nightmare, or when Dean would show up just in the nick of time to save his ass from whatever evil thing they were battling.

Whether his brother would ever admit it or not, Dean knew he was a safety net. The one constant in Sam's screwed up, freaky life. And now, when he needed that stability the most, Dean wasn't going to be there.

"You know you could make this a lot easier for both of us, Sleeping Beauty, if you'd just wake up." Dean watched the relaxed features, hoping for even a twitch of a finger, or even better a flutter of lashes. "If you don't hurry up, you're going to be stuck with the old man as the first face you see, and knowing Dad, he's liable to give you a lecture on picking your friends wisely as a welcome back speech."

Still nothing-only soft, steady breathing.

"Damn it, Sammy." Dean leaned on the bed rails, his hand finding his brother's. "I've got to go now. I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to. I swear. I would never leave you, if there was any way around it."

The hunter bowed his head and laughed lightly at his own inability to will his feet to move towards the door.. "Damn. This is worse than when I had to leave you that first day of kindergarten. You know, I almost caved that day and blew the whole thing off-took you for some ice cream and a matinee." Dean sighed. "But somehow hooky didn't seem like the best concept to introduce on the first day of your educational career. And then there was that fear of the belt that Dad would have introduced to my backside."

He smiled and raked his hand through Sam's hair again. "But I'll be waiting on you, little brother, just like then. I won't be far. I promise."

Dean glanced at the door, knowing he was pushing his luck. He quickly reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the pendant that Dr. Daniels had given back to him. Leaning down, he slipped it over Sam's head and let his hand linger over his brother's heart for just a moment. "This thing got you through that wreck without me. It'll keep you safe until I can get back. I'll fix this, Sammy. All of it."

The older hunter lifted his hand and touched Sam's face lightly. "Starting with Jeff Wilkerson."

Chapter 9-Coming soon.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: A big thanks to my bud Tidia who took time out from her busy schedule and her own fic to give this a once over. All mistakes are still mine though. A whopping big thank you to all the reviews for this monkey on my back-bg. Actually, I enjoyed writing this part, I hope it came out the way that I wanted. -Happy new episode day-Ridley._

John had almost been surprised to find Sam's hospital room empty when he returned. It wasn't as if Dean usually disobeyed his commands, but there was always a chance when his brother was involved that Dean would shrug off all the years of training, and rely on instinct. That innate sense to protect Sam could bring him into direct conflict with his father, and no matter how badly it pissed John off, he had no one to blame but himself.

Still, it was unnerving to find Sam alone. Vulnerable. And John remembered once again why he had always driven Dean to watch out for his kid brother.

It didn't take much. Dean had been born a protector, and when Sam came along those natural abilities blossomed, and even before Mary was taken from them, Dean was completely swept away by the job of keeping watch over Sammy. It had never been a problem before, except for the few times when John and his eldest had disagreed on what was best for Sam.

But the look in Dean's eyes earlier, worried John. It was one thing to go to any lengths to protect family from the supernatural, but Dean didn't seem to see the distinction between the human world, and the other. An old friend had warned John about it once.

Caleb Reaves, a fellow hunter, had told John that the danger in training a pit bull so well was that after a while, it didn't recognize the difference in its enemies and it wouldn't be easy to control. It would always be driven by the instinct to protect what it watched over, to the detriment of everyone else around it- pit bull included. It was the man's subtle way of warning him that Dean could get hurt. That putting one son's safety above the other was wrong.

_Damn him. _Caleb had a way of always being right, and it pissed John off to high heaven.

Of course Caleb had known his friend wouldn't listen, he'd gone behind John's back and talked to Sam instead. Sam had been fifteen then, and he'd come home one day with a gift for his brother's upcoming birthday. A gift that Caleb had found for him. The damn protection pendant, that now rested on John's youngest son's chest.

Caleb had convinced Sam that the metal it was made from was beyond rare and had amazing qualities that would _protect_ the boy's protector. Dean rarely took it off, because a young Sam had made him promise not to.

John had questioned Caleb about where he'd gotten it, only to get snide remarks about it being a demonic warning beacon-alerting anything evil about the badass wearing it. Caleb had joked that he had a right to warn his brethren of their impending doom.

The older hunter silently cursed his stinging eyes as he let his hand rest over the pendant, feeling the steady rise and fall of Sam's breath. He'd fucked up so badly, that even now the edges were blurring for him also. As wrong as it was, he secretly hoped that Dean would teach Wilkerson a lesson. John himself, was half-tempted to do it if Sam didn't come back to them-or if he was returned, but never again the same, inquisitive, generous spirit that they loved.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy." John closed his eyes, trying to capture just one happy image that he'd had of his son. "If I hadn't been gone…" John's self-recriminating words faded as the machine beside of him started to beep louder and faster than normal. His heart caught in his throat as he jerked his head up to stare at the offending machine when his gaze was averted by another alarm as it blared somewhere on the other side of the bed.

John looked down at Sam, almost afraid of what he might find, but was rewarded by an amazing sight. Sam was looking at him, or at least the one eye that wasn't swollen beyond capacity of opening was wide and staring. "Oh, God," John whispered, not caring if the tears he'd been fighting off returned with a vengeance, overflowing the dam of his lashes. "Sammy? Sam? Can you hear me?"

Machines continued to beep, and several nurses entered the room, crowding around the Winchesters, but John ignored them, continuing to watch Sam, afraid if he looked away it all might be a dream. "Son?"

Sam's mouth moved but at first no words came, and John feared the worst. His son had been returned, but permanently damaged. Then the sweetest sound John had heard since his boys' first words made it past the teen's lips. "Dean?"

Dean had found it easy enough to disarm the Wilkerson's state of the art security system, and had slipped undetected into their beach-side mansion, even in the telling, last rays of evening sunshine.

It appeared that Mrs. Wilkerson wasn't home, at least her BMW was missing, but Dean had seen old man Wilkerson's Jag in the drive, and he cautiously crept through a first-floor window of what he'd assumed was a bathroom. It really didn't matter if the whole Morgana police department was present. At this point, nothing was going to deter him from his mission.

He was right about the john, and nearly took a header into a swimming pool-sized tub on his way in, but managed not to make too much noise in the process. Thank God the wealthy invested in sound proof walls, instead of the cheap sheet rock their tiny house was constructed of. Sam and Dean often joked that it was a damn good thing that their father had no interest in dating, because they would definitely been traumatized for life if he'd ever entertained at home.

The young hunter had really hoped that Wilkerson senior would have been out, planning his case against the Winchester family, or at least trying to come up with ways to get his pathetic excuse for a son out of a vehicular homicide charge. But things weren't just meant to go his way. No matter, Dean thought as he quietly made his way out of the bathroom and into a lush hallway, he would take care of the father also if need be.

No one was going to keep him from Sam-no matter how powerful or well-placed they were.

Dean heard a voice drift from a nearby room and braced himself in a narrow overhang of a stairwell. It was definitely old man Wilkerson, and as Dean waited for another voice that never came, he surmised that the attorney was more than likely on the phone.

All the better. One less witness that Dean would have to contend with.

Sliding to the edge of the room, Dean glanced around the corner of the doorway and caught sight of the lawyer, sitting in a large leather chair. His profile was highlighted by the red-orange glow of sunset as it flooded through the massive bay windows that afforded a view of the rocky cliffs and sea below. His feet were propped on a grand mahogany desk, and his reclined posture and easy laugh seemed almost blasphemous in the wake of events that were swirling beyond his hill top estate.

_Somewhere_ Jake's parent's were trying to come to terms with the fact that their seventeen-year-old son wasn't ever coming home. _Somewhere_ kids were gathered, talking about a friend they'd never see again, and crying over all the lost moments they'd never regain. And _somewhere_-in a tiny hospital room-Dean's little brother was fighting for his life. All because of this man's prodigy. And Wilkerson thought he was going to get away with it.

For a moment, Dean stepped out of the shadows, standing in plain sight-willing the attorney to turn and see him. To look over his shoulder. To feel fear-even an inkling of the fear Dean had been feeling since that fateful phone call. He wanted the bastard to be afraid.

But a part of him knew that wouldn't happen. Men like Wilkerson never felt like they had to look over their shoulder. They had no fear while sitting in their ivory towers. But that false sense of security and privilege would be their downfall. With all of Wilkerson's money and power, his own son wasn't even safe in his own house, in his own room, in his own bed.

A hunter was in his midst, just a few short footfalls away from the kill. A man who had tasted fear would have smelled the danger a mile away. Wilkerson was oblivious. _Pompous bastard._ Dean flipped the man the bird and started for Jeff's room.

Doctor Daniels made it to Sam's room, just as the boy said his brother's name for the second time. "Dean?"

Honestly, he'd feared the worst when he'd been paged to come to ICU. So it came as a complete surprise that not only was his previously comatose patient _alive_-but awake and coherent enough to speak. "Cate?"

The nurse was smiling, shaking her head slightly. "He just came to. The alarm alerted us to the change in his status, and I had you paged right away."

"It's okay, Sammy. Just take it easy." John ran one hand over his son's hair and kept the other on his chest, in fear that he might try to sit up.

"Dad…," Sam's voice was weak, and sounded painful, but he was determined. "Where's… Dean?" Sam had felt pulled to consciousness by an overwhelming need to see his brother. It was almost like when he'd have a nightmare as a child, and need that reassurance that he wasn't alone. Now-he just felt disoriented, and afraid.

"Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Daniels pulled out his penlight and positioned it in front of Sam's face. "Sam? Do you know where you are?"

Sam weakly turned his head away from the blinding light and searched for his father again. "Dad?"

"I'm here, kiddo. Just answer the man's question."

"Sam-do you remember what happened?"

"No," Sam said honestly, and that scared him even more. He guessed he was at a hospital considering the machines and everyone's outfit seemed to come with a stethoscope as an accessory. Besides, he had that floaty feeling that the really good drugs gave you-the kind of drugs that John Winchester found it hard to keep in supply in their family's trusted first aid kit.

"Can you tell me how old you are?" The doctor reached out and held his chin, stopping Sam from moving his head. "What the year is? And what town we're in?"

Sam would have rolled his eyes, but for some reason only one of them seemed to be functioning, and it was being subjected to the torturous penlight inspection. He was sure he should have been more concerned about that, but at the moment, he just wanted the strange man out of his face. "Seven…seventeen," he managed.

That was an easy one, but Sam had been forced to think about it for a moment. The others for some reason, weren't as simple to grasp. Although, they should have been. They seemed to be lurking at the edge of his mind, but would slip away whenever Sam tried to pin them down. That wasn't normal. _Was it? _Sam should have known what town he was in and what month it was.

John must have agreed, because Sam could feel the man's hand tighten around his arm. "Sammy?"

"I…don't." Sam licked his dry lips, his throat starting to burn. "Why…can't I remember?" A light pain flared behind the front of his skull, as if it was trying to gain momentum. Fortunately, it seemed to be held at bay by an invisible force that the teen guessed was being powered by the medicine running through the I.V. in his hand.

"Doctor?" John met the physician's gaze, a hundred thoughts forming in his mind-none of them pleasant.

"It's okay." Daniels held up his hand. "This is normal. Just give him some time. It's different with every patient. It's a good sign that Sam's awake. Let's focus on that."

"Dad?" Sam tried again. "…Dean?" Not only was Sam confused about why he didn't know what year it was or what town he was in, or by the fact that he was lucky to be awake. But now he was more than a little worried by the realization that his brother wasn't there to harass him about his lapse in memory.

Because Dean would have already called him _Amnesia Boy_, or _Addled_, or some other completely inappropriate but totally comforting thing by now that would have had Sam feeling a hundred times better than the sympathetic twin gazes he was getting from the doctor and his father.

"He's not here right now, Sammy."

"Wh…at?" Sam tried to push himself up, but instead cried out in pain when he jostled his restrained arm.

"Easy," the doctor warned. "You don't want to mess up the brilliant work Dr. Mills did in surgery."

"Sur…gery?" Sam grit out, wincing as the words seemed not only foreign but to weigh a ton-almost impossible to push out. "I…don't…understand."

"Take it easy, son. You've been out of it for a while."

Sam let his father push him gently back against the mattress. "But…?"

"Your father's right, Sam. You've been unconscious for almost fifteen hours, in a light coma for most of that time." Daniel's shook his head, looking at the readings on the computer that Cate had just rolled closer to him. "It's amazing that you're as coherent as you are."

"But that's good, right?" John was talking to the doctor, but kept his wary gaze on his son. "He's going to be okay?"

"It's good. The sooner a patient emerges the less likely it is that there will be any negative effects." Daniels turned back to the teen. "I've seen cases like Sam's but they're not common. He's a very lucky young man."

"Dad?" Sam tried again, tiring of the voices, that were just mumbles to him, fading in and out at that.

"Sam, your brother's not here." John was beginning to get aggravated. Could nothing ever be simple. He'd sent Dean away, and apparently that had been the wrong thing to do. Just like leaving Sam at home alone was the wrong thing to do.

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding hurt and weak and more seven than seventeen. Even the doctor and nurse looked accusingly at the oldest Winchester.

John was sure he groaned. That one word could send spikes of dread through his head on a normal day. It was Sam's _favorite _word. From five years on up to the present day.

John hated the sound of it. Mostly because he never had a good enough answer for it. He'd let Dean handle most of the whys along the way. Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why don't we have a mommy? Why do we have to hunt bad things? Why can't we stay in one place? Why? Why? Why?

_Why can't anything ever be simple for us? _"Damn it, Sam. You were in a car accident." That seemed a good enough answer.

"Car…ac…cident?" _Oh God_. That's why his brother wasn't with him. They had wrecked the Impala.

Sam panicked and another machine alarmed.

Fragmented pictures flashed through the teen's Swiss-cheesed memory-like scenes of a movie that seemed completely random and out of order. Sam was in a car, and then there was a loud crash, music was blaring, then screams filled his ears. Fear crashed over him and with it came the pain. He'd called out for Dean. "Dean," he gasped, " Please… tell me. "

At his son's panicked reaction, John realized he had yet again made another mistake. He bent over Sam, placing both his hands on the distraught teen's face, and gentled his voice. "Son-your brother's fine. He wasn't in the wreck. I didn't mean for you to think that. Take it easy."

"Sam-you need to calm down. Just try and relax." Dr. Daniels shot John a stern look. "He needs to remain still."

"You're…lying." Dean would have been there. Sam's mind conjured it's own reality as to why his brother was missing. _Someone_ had been in the car with Sam. Something horrible had happened to them. It had to have been Dean. Dean was the only person he ever rode with.

More scenes assaulted the seventeen-year-old. There was a monstrous tree, and too much blood. He could smell it and taste it. It had been so cold and Death had been there. _NO. _"He'd…be… here." Of that Sam was sure.

John sighed. "Sammy, some things happened. I sent him away."

"I don't want to sedate you, Sam." The doctor was now motioning for Cate again, who hovered near Sam's head.

Sam wasn't listening to the physician, instead his gaze was still locked on his father.

_Sent him away? _Why would his father send Dean away?

"What… ? You…sent…him away?" Tears gathered in Sam's eyes and John averted his gaze, instead he focused on the doctor.

"Sam, just try and take some deep breaths okay. It's normal to be confused and upset after your body has been through a trauma."

"Dean's okay, Sam. I promise," John added, finding the strength to face his son again and using his thumb to wipe away the tears.

Sam slowly shook his head. For some reason the feeling of overwhelming sadness and fear for his brother didn't match up with the words that John was saying. "No."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing his son and standing up. "I swear to you, Samuel. I wouldn't lie to you about this."

"Where is your other son?" Daniels looked at John, when it was obvious that Sam wasn't going to settle. "I left him here not more than an hour ago." He lowered his voice, and turned away from his patient. "And I know for a fact that he's not in custody. The deputy has already interrogated me and my staff."

John sighed. "I can call him."

"Do it. I need Sam to calm down so we can take him upstairs for tests. If you can get your son here- make it happen."

The hunter shook his head. "But my son can't come back here, there's cops all over this place."

"Then get him on the phone. Maybe if Sam hears his voice, it will get him through what comes next. I'll take what I can get at this point."

At this point, Dean would have gone into the Wilkerson house blind, but Jeff's lovely girlfriend had been so kind to share exactly which floor the punk's room was on, along with the rest of the layout for the D.A.'s mansion. Funny how a little guilt and a whole lot of fear could go a long way in convincing a person to do the _right_ thing.

Dean only hoped Wilkerson would take to the idea of turning over a new leaf as easy as his girl had. But on second thought, maybe not. After all, Dean wouldn't mind showing him the error of his ways.

The lights were off, and Dean could hear the background noise of a T.V. Easing up beside the door, the hunter was glad to see it slightly ajar. Soft flickering light from the television screen danced against the wall as Dean quietly pushed the heavy door open, slipped in the room, and then closed it just as soflty.

Wilkerson's bed was in the middle of the room, and Dean was once again filled with anger as he took in all the comforts around him. Curtains were drawn across the floor to ceiling windows, allowing the big screen television to illuminate everything around it, including a top of the line sound system, that Dean would have quite possibly sold his left arm for. Then there was the brand new lap top computer, it was an exact replica of the one that Dean had seen Sam drooling over in a magazine a few weeks back, not to mention the over-flowing shelves of books, and music and movies.

It wasn't fair.

And even though money had never meant shit to Dean, the overwhelming scent of it that lingered in Wilkerson's room left him feeling bitter and nauseous. And even angrier that a kid that had been given _everything_ had tried to take the _one_ valuablething that Dean had. His family.

Wilkerson wasn't even watching the ballgame that was taking place in 'big as life' action in front of him. Instead, he had on headphones, eyes closed, reclined on the oversized bed.

Not a care in the world.

Dean stood over him for a moment, taking in the white bandage around his head, the dark bruises on his face. Like his father, his senses were dull, unable to even detect the very real threat that lurked just inches from him. It was disgusting, and Dean almost relished in the prospect of the rude awakening he was about to dish out to Wilkerson.

Dean reached down to his boot, and slid his knife from the sheath he had strapped there, before inching closer to the bed. The hunter gripped the hilt of the knife between his teeth, freeing both his hands. In one fluid motion he used one hand to tear the headphones from Jeff's head and the over to cover the teen's mouth.

With practiced skill he pinned his surprised prey to the bed, and made sure that Wilkerson felt the blade that was now precariously perched against his carotid artery.

The teen's eyes widened, first in shock and then in complete fear as he realized who his attacker was. He screamed something, but it was muffled beneath Dean's strong grip.

The hunter smiled. "Hello, Jeffrey. Funny how we keep meeting up like this. Nice place you got here. I wished you'd invited me over before you took to killing people."

Wilkerson tried to buck free, mumbling wildly again. Dean pressed the knife harder, eliciting another look of fear. "I wouldn't move around so much if I were you. I just sharpened this baby."

The teen stopped moving and the hunter smiled coldly. "Now you and I are going to have a little conversation, and just so we don't get interrupted, I need you to be very quiet."

Wilkerson's terrified gaze darted around the room. "Don't worry. We're all alone. No one will hear if you start crying like the pussy we know you are."

Dean shifted his weight, pressing his knees harder into Jeff's arms. "You so much as raise your voice above a whisper, shit for brains, and I'll make a mess of you on these fancy silk sheets and this lovely white carpet that you're Mommy's maid will never be able to erase." Dean leaned closer, his face just inches away from Wilkerson's. "Do we have an understanding, Jeffey?"

Wilkerson whimpered, but nodded. "Good." Dean released his grip, but kept the knife pressed against the boy's jugular. "This doesn't have to be ugly."

The knife was resting so snugly against Wilkerson's neck, that Dean could swear he felt the racing pulse through the blade, traveling along the hilt, into Dean's steady hand. "I can make it real fast if you like, Jeff."

"What…do… you want?" Wilkerson stuttered, making sure to keep his voice at a whisper.

"What do we all really want, Jeff? Food for the hungry. World peace_. Justice_."

"You're… crazy," the teen wheezed, as the knife bit into his skin. .

Dean grinned. "Hey, I never claimed not to be. But, _I'm_ not the one boozing it up and then getting behind the wheel of a car. A piece of shit Ford to beat it all. And I'm not too big on killing my buddies either nor am I going around making deadly designer cocktails for kids who didn't request them-now am I?"

"It was a joke man,." Jeff sobbed, as the realization of what was going down finally seemed to sink in. A single tear rolled down the boy's bruised face. "I swear, man. I didn't mean for this shit to happen."

The crying incensed Dean as he remembered the tears that had streaked his own little brother's bloodied face as he lay naked and vulnerable on the ER examination table. Sam's tears were justified, not a sign of weakness like Wilkerson's. The knife dug deeper, eliciting a gasp of pain. "I hate to tell you this, but death's not all that funny. But wait-maybe I'll just let you find that out first hand."

"Please!" Jeff gasped. " I'm begging you…"

"Do you think that kid that died in your car begged for his life while he was choking to death on his own blood? Do you think he was scared? How about my brother? You think he's scared right now-fighting for his life?"

"I really didn't mean to wreck. I didn't want Jake to die."

"But he did," Dean growled. "And why the fuck did you mess with my brother? He's nothing to you."

Jeff swallowed hard, wincing as Dean's knife dug deeper into his skin. " I just wanted him to know I meant business. To stay out of my territory."

"Your territory?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "This was some fucked up pissing contest?"

"He was always strutting around school, talking with the coach, flirting with my girl. He acted like he was better than everybody else."

Dean laughed. "Have you _met _my brother?" Dean brought his free hand up and placed it around Jeff's throat and squeezed. "He wasn't interested in your stupid basketball team, or in any kind of popularity contest. He sure the hell wasn't fucking with your girl." Dean squeezed harder. "That was _me_. Sam just wanted to go to school. But you got one thing right-he _is_ better than you and your idiot friends."

"I'm…sorry," Jeff gasped, as more and more of his oxygen was cut off, and Dean let go of him, pressing harder with the knife.

"Damn straight you're sorry! You don't know what he went through. You have no fucking clue what my whole family went through, just to get to this point. No one fucks with my brother's life. Ever!" Blood pooled on the surface of Wilkerson's skin, bubbling onto the blade in small droplets. "Not without consequences."

"I'll do…anything…Please…just…don't hurt me."

"You'll do something, all right. You'll confess that you drugged my brother. You'll tell the cops that he had nothing to do with any of this sick shit, and then you'll drop the charges against me. You and your daddy will back off, or I swear I'll find you Wilkerson."

"I'll hunt you down like the bitch that you are. There is no where, and I mean no where that your rich daddy can hide you that I won't find you." Dean leaned in closer again. "Trust me when I say that I have buried things for doing less than what you did to my brother. I've burned the corpses of ass holes who even touched Sam the wrong way. And I won't hesitate to do it again." It was true in a sense. Of course all those things had already been dead or not of this world, but Jeff didn't have to know that. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Jeff nodded, tears still flowing freely. "I'll…do…it. I swear. I'll even pay you…whatever you want. Just name it, man."

Dean couldn't believe the bastard was offering compensation, like he was some thug trying to shake him down. There was no amount of money that would make up for Jake's life, or for Sam's. The thought of the smug bastard trying to put a price tag on his kid brother sent a whole new wave of anger coursing through the hunter.

He saw red, and wasn't sure if he could control the bloodlust that surged from the darkness that he kept hidden in the deepest recesses of his soul. The knife edged deeper against Wilkerson's neck, blood flowing a little freer now. Dean could smell the coppery scent as it mixed with the heady stink of fear, and it was enticing and dizzying.

"Ple…ease," Jeff gasped at the same time that Dean's cell phone rang. The ringing snapped him out of it, and he eased up on the knife as he pulled the phone from his jacket pocket.

"_Dean?" _

Dean swallowed hard, averting his eyes from Wilkerson. His father's voice sounded rough over the phone, as if he might have been crying. John Winchester never cried. "Dad? What's wrong?"

"_You need to come to the hospital."_

"Why?

There was a long pause, when all of Dean's fears rose to the surface and his steady hands, began to shake. He could hear Jeff whimper as the blade moved slightly, but it was faint over the rush of blood in his ears as his heart thundered in his chest.

This was it.

The blow he'd been waiting for.

His father was going to say those awful words that had once before destroyed Dean's world. _Your mom's gone, son. She's not coming back. _Only this time it would be worse. His brother had left him.

"_Dean?"_ The voice was hoarse, and weak, but fucking beautiful-and unmistakably Sam's.

"I'll be damned," Dean laughed, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "If it ain't the Coma Kid, himself. Damn it's good to hear your voice, Sammy."

"_I_…_need you."_

The desperation was sobering, killing off the level of adrenaline that had been spiking through Dean's body. The smile faded from his face, and his hands steadied once more. He hadn't heard his brother say those words in years, and it was worrying and for some reason-painful. "I'll be there, Sammy. I promise."

"_Son?" _His father had taken the phone from his brother. "_ The boys in blue will be waiting."_

Sam glanced at Wilkerson. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm bringing my own personal '_get out of jail free' _card."

"_I'll meet you in the lobby."_

"Dad-tell Sammy…" _That I love him…that I'm so glad he's awake. _"…tell him that I'll see him real soon."

"_Be careful, Ace."_

"Always."

Dean closed the phone, and slid it in his pocket. He grinned down at Wilkerson. "You must have a guardian angel, Jeffey. Because my brother just saved your ass."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"I guess that's up to you." Dean eased himself off of Jeff, wrapping his fist in the teen's shirt and pulling him off the bed. "We're going for a little drive."

Jeff's face paled a shade whiter than it had been. "Wh..where?"

"To visit a sick friend." Dean turned and scooped the fancy laptop off of the desk, tucking it under his arm, keeping the knife trained on Jeff. "Don't want to forget to take a gift." Dean glanced at the computer. "Sammy will just love this."

Chapter 10-Coming Soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Where We Find God

Chapter 10

By: Ridley

_**A/N: Wow, where to start...First, I am sorry to say that I promised a sneak peak at this to one of the readers because she had so faithfully asked about it in every review of every story. Then I lost her email, and couldn't contact her, so, you know who you are. Email me. And I'll make it up to you. I swear. Like big time. And for everyone else who wrote asking about this...this is for you...and I wasn't ignoring you. Honestly, the response to this story, kind of scared me. I began to get afraid that I would disappoint everyone with the ending...I knew it couldn't be good enough...and time went on...and anxiety built. But Tidia whacked some sense into me. And prodded me with some great lines of her own that fall into the last part of this chapter and the Epilogue. She made it all better, trust me. I still don't know if it's good enough, or what you expected, but I offer it humbly. Finally! -Ridley**_

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"_You're not going to kill me?"_

"_I guess that's up to you." Dean eased himself off of Jeff, wrapping his fist in the teen's shirt and pulling him off the bed. "We're going for a little drive."_

_Jeff's face paled a shade whiter than it had been. "Wh...where?"_

"_To visit a sick friend." Dean turned and scooped the fancy laptop off of the desk, tucking it under his arm, keeping the knife trained on Jeff. "Don't want to forget to take a gift." Dean glanced at the computer. "Sammy will just love this."_

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Dean didn't let go of the grip he had on Wilkerson's arm until they made it to the hospital entrance. "Remember what I said, Jeff. There's no where I can't find you."

"I understand," Jeff said softly, as they stepped over the threshold.

Marty Collins was the first to see them. "Dean?" He looked at the other boy, amazed he was in one piece and not yet again in need of medical attention. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sam's awake." Dean nodded to Jeff. "Wilkerson and I came to say hi."

Marty regarded Jeff. "That true?" By this time Officer Billy Metz had spotted the three men and was jogging over.

"What the hell is going on here?" Metz rounded on Dean. "You are under arrest, mister."

"I thought we already established that, Barn?"

"Dean," Marty sighed. "Don't make things worse."

"We've been searching the premises for the last two hours. I had to call the Sheriff." Billy pulled his hand cuffs out. "This time I won't let you out of my sight."

"There's no need for those, Metz." It was Jeff who spoke up. "I'm not pressing charges against Dean."

"What? Why the hell not?"

"It was all a misunderstanding." Jeff glanced at Dean, and licked his lips nervously. "Winchester was pissed because I played a trick on his brother."

"What kind of trick?" Marty asked.

"Stay out of this, Collins," Metz snarled. "If someone needs a tow I'll let you know." Billy turned back to Marty. "What kind of trick?"

Jeff hesitated, but all Dean had to do was clear his throat. "I doctored his drink. Fucked him up. Sam didn't know what he was drinking."

"I see," Billy looked uncertain. "Have you talked to your father about this?"

"The boy is making a statement, Metz. I didn't hear him ask for no lawyer, and you haven't even read him his rights."

"I wave my rights."

"You can't do that, son. You're a minor."

Wilkerson rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you, I was drinking. Sam wasn't. We put him in my car after he passed out." Again Jeff looked at Dean. "Winchester was just making a point."

"He was trying to kill you," Metz interjected.

"You heard the boy, Billy. It was a misunderstanding." Marty looked at Dean. "One that Dean was trying to rectify by leaving here and returning with Mr. Wilkerson."

"He escaped custody."

"That's kind of a mute point seeing as how there are no charges against him now."

"The D.A. might not see it that way."

"It doesn't matter," Jeff said. "I won't testify against Winchester."

Billy sighed, glancing at Dean. "Don't leave town. This isn't a closed case."

"I'm not going anywhere as long as my brother's here," Dean said, then focused on Marty. "Are we finished?"

Marty nodded. "I think I can explain your side of things to the sheriff." The tow truck driver cut his eyes to Metz. "Billy might leave something important out."

Dean nodded his appreciation and then started for the elevators. As he was walking away he heard Metz start to read Wilkerson his rights. It was a beginning, if nothing else.

Sam was beginning to panic. Nothing was coming back to him. Not a single thing, besides the horrific flashes of a car crash. It was all a blur, and no one seemed interested in helping him to understand.

The doctor and nurses kept poking and prodding him, checking their readings against printouts on the computer, and his father continued to stare at him as if he wasn't quite sure Sam was truly _Sam. _He was beginning to wonder if the whole experience of talking with Dean on the phone hadn't been just another flash of memory, when his brother burst breathlessly through the door.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam breathed, trying to see around the doctor, who was once again leaned over him, checking the large bandage across his forehead.

Dean glanced at their father, tossed his things on the chair next to Sam's bed and went instantly to his brother's side. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Don't you know comas are for girls?"

Sam smiled, weakly, but the sentiment of it was belied by the instant welling of tears. They escaped, flowing freely down his cheek, even gathering at the corners of his swollen, damaged eye. "Dean? What's…going on? Where were you?"

"Hey," Dean stepped closer, his grin instantly disappearing. He laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, glanced questioningly up at his father. "Take it easy. I'm here now."

"What…happened?" Sam forced out the words, using his good arm to shove weakly at Dr. Daniels, who moved, but gave the older brother a look.

"How about we leave you alone with your family for a moment?" The physician glanced at his staff and then down to his patient. "Sam, we're going to have to take you upstairs for tests in a few moments. Do you understand?"

Sam didn't look at him. That much he got. He wasn't stupid or deaf, after all. All Sam wanted to know was how he had ended up in the hospital in the first place.

When the boy didn't reply, Daniels focused on Dean. "He doesn't remember much, but that's typical, especially considering the contributing circumstances. Maybe you could feel in the blank spots for him."

Dean swallowed hard, but nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Just try to keep him calm. I think he'll be fine now that he knows that you're okay. Emerging from a coma, even a light one, can leave a person feeling rather out of sorts and emotionally charged."

The young hunter raised an eyebrow. "You been giving the doctors and lovely nurses, trouble, bro?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Daniels smiled, reassuringly. "He's quite a hit with the staff. At least with those who had bets on him waking up."

Sam shot a look to the physician, that spoke to his disapproval of the humor. "Okay, then." Daniels patted Sam's leg. "I'll be expecting you in Radiology in a few."

John watched the staff leave before making his way over to his sons. "You take care of the situation with Metz?"

"It's good." Dean looked back down at his brother. "I won't be going anywhere anytime soon. Thanks to your friend, Wilkerson."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Wilkerson?"

The older boy could tell his brother was struggling to recall the name. "Big, Neanderthal-looking jock."

"From school."

"Yeah." Dean glanced at their dad then back to his brother. "Do you remember going to a party with him, Sammy?"

"No."

"You and your friend, Jake?" Dean tried to prod the memory along.

His little brother swallowed hard. "Jake?"

"You guys were at the beach."

"How…"

"Wilkerson was drunk, Sam," John said with a sigh, and his oldest son glared at him.

"Dad..."

The eldest Winchester ignored Dean's warning tone and pushed on. "He wrecked. You, your friend Jake, and another boy were all with him."

"I…don't understand. I wouldn't have got in a car with Jeff if…"

"You were messed up, too."

Dean didn't protest his father's blunt tactics this time but his grip tightened on his brother's shoulder, as he prepared to pick up the pieces, just like always.

"I…don't..." Sam shook his head, wincing, before turning pleading eyes to his protector. "Dean? You know that I'd never…"

"Hey," Dean moved his hand to Sam's forehead, hoping to erase the lines of pain. "Just take it easy, okay. We know you didn't do it on purpose. Wilkerson drugged you, Sam. He doctored your drink. None of this is your fault."

Then the word the older brother had been dreading. "Why? Why would Jeff do something like that?"

"I don't know, kiddo. He's an ass." Dean's voice hardened. "But he's not going to get away with it. I can promise you that."

"Was…anyone else hurt?" Another dreaded question. One with an answer, but not the one Sam would find comfort in.

John and Dean shared another look, and apparently that was the only reply Sam needed. The flashes of memory were back, as if someone had tossed a handful of confetti into the air around him, the pieces falling into place in no particular order.

"Sam?" Dean reacted to the soft whimper and Sam's twisted grimace of pain. "Sammy?"

"Jake?" Sam finally opened his eyes looked at his brother. "It was Jake…in the car with me… not you. You weren't there."

"I'm sorry," Dean offered, not knowing what else to say. He'd only met Jake a couple of times, hadn't trusted him as far as he could throw him, but he'd been decent to Sammy. And Sam didn't have a wealth of friends to choose from. "He didn't make it, little brother."

"Oh God," Sam said, as another memory hit him. The teen closed his eyes as Jake's body, impaled by limbs, bloody and lifeless, made an appearance in his field of vision. "I…was trapped in the car with him." Jake's eyes had been open and staring and Sam hadn't been able to avoid that gaze. The smell of blood overpowering. Death had swooped down upon them, lighted between them in the car. And Sam had faced it. Alone. "You…you should have been there."

The words hit Dean like a hard and dirty sucker punch. "Sammy…"

"I needed you," Sam's voice was raw with emotion, as he choked back tears. "Where…_were _you?" The question was more accusation than inquiry, and its barbed aim was lethal. "This is all your fault. You're the one who told me I needed to go out more. To make friends. Well...look where that got me. Look where it got Jake."

"Sam," John put his hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "Your brother and I got here as fast as we could."

"Not fast enough," Sam bit out. He glared at Dean. "Leave me alone."

Dean went down like he had a glass jaw. "But…Sam?"

"Get out! I…don't want you here."

Dean removed his touch as if he'd been burned, backed away from the bed. "I'm sorry," he said softly, before turning and leaving the room.

John watched his oldest son go, feeling torn as to what he should do. The fact that he wouldn't know what in the hell to say to Dean, cemented his decision to stay with Sam. "You want to tell me what that was about?"

"I…don't want you here either." Sam glared at the other man, without the same effect.

John was use to being the target of his youngest son's anger. "Then I guess it's a good thing you can't rip my heart out and stomp on it, because I'm not going anywhere."

The teen looked up at him, but stayed quiet. "You know when you were a little boy, Sammy, you'd run to your brother for everything. Broken toys, scraped knees, bruises, bad dreams, bullies-whatever it was-you took it to your brother to fix."

The boy glanced at the blanket covering him, picking at the fabric with his cast-free hand.

"He'd move the earth to make you happy-then and now." John sighed, raked a hand through his hair. "And that's my fault in part. And I can understand now that I didn't do either of you a service by fostering that ridiculous belief that you have that he _could_ and maybe _should_ move the earth to make you happy."

More tears flooded Sam's eyes, and John felt bad for hurting his son, who had just woken up from a coma for Christ's sake. But sometimes cruelty was the kindest gesture. "And I don't think I helped Dean when I let him prove you right over and over again, bolstering the belief he'll always be able to be there-like some fairytale, fire-breathing sentry."

"I was so scared," the words were whispered, and the older Winchester barely heard them through the sob they were carried on. "I needed him. I...didn't... want to die alone."

"Sam, your brother was scared, too. Of you dying, of losing you," John shook his head, "But more than anything, of failing you."

Sam looked up sharply. "He didn't fail me."

"Son, you just told him that he did."

Sam took a painful breath and let it out slowly. "I…I don't know why I said that." And he didn't.

He was just so angry and confused, and Dean seemed to know what to say or do to make it all better. Dean had saved him from evil spirits, and blood thirsty raw heads, werewolves and wendigos. He'd tried to perform miracles on rabbits and fought bastard humans on his behalf. Dean _always _saved him. But there was nothing his older brother could do to change the car wreck, to erase the hours that Sam had been hurt and alone. Nor could he bring Jake back. Sam just wanted it all to go away. For it all to a bad dream Captain One Helluva Big Brother could hold at bay with his magic forcefield.

Maybe he did want Dean to do the impossible.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Maybe you should tell your brother that."

The door opened and both men looked up expectantly, each silently hoping that it would be Dean. Instead, it was Marty.

"Glad to see you awake there, Sam."

The teen wiped at his eyes and gave the tow truck driver a weak nod.

"I just wanted to stop in and tell Dean that Wilkerson is being taken down town as we speak." He glanced from John to Sam. "Where is he by the way? I thought it would take nothing short of dynamite to get him out of this room."

"He just stepped out for some air," John explained. "It's been a long night."

"I'm sure. First he nearly kills Wilkerson, gets himself arrested, escapes, and then he persuades Jeff to turn himself in and to confess." He smiled at Sam. "You've got yourself a one man militia there, son."

Before the teenager could reply a nurse and two orderlies entered the room with a gurney.

One of the many monitors picked up Sam's change in breathing and heart rate. "Dad, I…don't want to go with them."

"They're just going to take you down for some tests, kiddo. It'll be okay."

"I better get out of the way, John," Marty jutted his chin towards the door. "I'll call you later to see how things are going."

"Thanks, Marty," John nodded. He had his hands too full to say much more.

"No," Sam struggled to raise himself up. "I have…to talk to Dean, Dad. I need to explain...about before."

"They'll be time for that later." The oldest Winchester laid a restraining hand on his son's chest.

"We're suppose to take you up to radiology for a CAT scan and a MRI, Mr. Winchester." A nurse had entered the room now, and she smiled at Sam. "You'll be back down before you know it."

"No!" Sam said again, louder than before, knowing he was pushing his luck both with the staff and his father.

One of the orderlies sighed, and glanced at his partner. "One of the drunk kids from that accident," he muttered, under his breath. "Guess he doesn't realize how lucky he is we aren't rolling his spoiled ass to the morgue."

"What'd you say?" John glanced up from his distraught son to see Dean enter the room again. He was standing closely behind the orderlies, a murderous gleam in his green eyes.

The dark-haired tech whirled around, and looked abashedly at the young man now standing in his personal space. "Sorry…man, I didn't know you were back there."

"I guess not."

"Dean," John said, quietly. "Let it go." Whatever it was that Dean had heard wasn't worth more trouble. Everyone's nerves were frayed. He and Dean were walking on egg shells as sharp and fragile as shattered porcelain. They'd had more than their share of controversy over the last two days.

The twenty-one-year-old reluctantly backed down, but continued to glare at the techs. "My little brother just woke up from a coma. What's your excuse?"

"Larry," the nurse spoke up, "why don't you and Sandy come back in a few moments." She flashed John and Sam an apologetic look. "I'm sure the tests can wait a few more minutes."

"Thank you," John nodded, as she left them alone.

"Dean..." Sam spoke quietly.

"Don't worry, little brother. I just forgot my keys." He nodded to the chair he'd tossed them on. "I'm going."

"No!" Sam's good hand shot out, catching his brother's sleeve. "Don't go."

Dean looked slightly amused, and a little angry. "Dude, first you want me here, then you don't , then you do. I'm not a yo-yo you can jerk around."

"I know. I'm sorry." Sam released his brother, reaching up to rub his aching head. "I...just didn't know if you'd come back."

The older boy sighed. "I'll aways come back, Sam." He shook his head. "Believe me of all the shit I've put up with from you, a little post coma PMS isn't going to push me over the edge. I made it through diapers, teething, and puberty, after all."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it-none of it." The seventeen-year-old hesitated. "I just wanted you there. Not in the wreck," He looked up, quickly clarifying. Just the thought of his brother being in the accident struck a chord of fear deep inside. "Just..._with me._"

"Sammy..." Dean started, but his little brother interrupted him.

"I guess I thought you could save both me and Jake. Like always."

The blond stepped to the bed once more, reclaimed his position by his brother's side. "Believe me, little brother. I wish I could have been there. It may take me a while, but I'll make things right. In the end, I'll be there, bro. Always."

Sam held his brother's gaze for a moment, before finally nodding, accepting the words for what the were. A brother's promise-an oath. The same promise that had been made to him seventeen years before. "Marty was saying that you almost killed Wilkerson, then you escaped custody?" Sam raised a brow. "That you convinced Jeff to turn himself in--What's that all about?"

"All part of my master plan," Dean replied with a grin, more than glad for the change of subject.

John snorted in disbelief. "If you two are finished with this soapy scene, I'll tell the nurse she can come back in now."

The boys ignored him. "Don't worry about the details, Sam. The bad guys go to jail and the good guys live to tell the tale." Dean winced at his own words. "Well...except for Jake."

The teen swallowed thickly, realizing that Jake would never be around to see the end of the story. "So you'll tell me later?" He asked hoarsely.

"Sure, kiddo." Dean shrugged. "Someday." When the town was far behind them, and Wilkerson was locked away. _When I know it won't hurt you. _"When you grow up, that is."

A faint smile, and a hint of dimple appeared as Sam rolled his one uninjured eye. "Jerk," he sighed.

"Bitch," Dean grinned.

Their father returned with two very contrite looking orderlies, and Sam tensed, not liking the idea of being seperated from his family for even a small amount of time. "Will you stay with me?" The teen reached out his hand, knew he probably sounded all of five. But at the moment, he _felt_ like a terrified child.

The older boy caught his arm, wrapped his fingers around the warm skin. He glanced up at the techs, and then smirked at his brother. "Let's see them try to stop me."

Sam nodded. "Thank's, Dean. For everything. "

"You ain't seen nothing, yet." His brother winked at him. "Wait to see the high tech, _ crazy _ expensive, get-well present I brought you."

EPILOGUE: COMING SOON...no, really, I mean it. Like soon, as in, well soon..._soon_. Not months and months and months soon. But days, maybe even lots of hours, soon. Ask Tidia, she'll tell you. Reviews are welcomed, and treasured-like old friends. Well, actually ravaged, like dark chocolate.


	11. Epilogue

Candle flame flickered in Sam's peripheral vision, blurring the edges a warm shade of gold. One minute he was looking at his brother, felt his solid touch. Then everything shifted out of focus, stretched and elongated, like a fun house mirror. Vertigo took hold, mixing oddly with the sensations from his injuries, the hangover from the drugs still lingering in his system. An odd humming filled his ears, drowning out the sound of his name. Then Dean's voice faded all together, along with the hospital room. They were replaced by the chapel and another's presence. The touch was cold this time…the hand now gripping his arm like ice.

Gone were the sterile surroundings and the harsh fluorescent glare. Lost were his father and brother, replaced by the ghost of a friend who had long since left him. An empty ache took up residence in his heart with the realization that his dad and Dean had never actually been with him. At least not in this present time. It left him longing to see them both.

"Sam?" Jake's voice seemed to echo in the lonely little chapel, resigning his fate to the present state of things. "You back among the living?" The teen snorted at his poor choice of words. "I mean…are you all right?"

Winchester blinked, took a deep breath to settle his stomach that was still flip-flopping from the magic carpet ride. "What happened?" He rubbed his eyes, bringing everything into sharper focus. A disoriented feeling similar to that of stepping from a darkened movie theater into the brightness of midday had him shaking his head slightly to clear the fog. "Jake…what did you do to me?"

The red head grinned. "Wicked, huh?"

Sam glared. "How did you do that? _Why _did you do that?"

"Sometimes taking a stroll down memory lane can help lead one in the correct path in the present."

The hunter frowned. "Did you read that from some sort of handbook for spirits?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Ghost Speak for Dummies. How'd you know?"

"Seriously, man."

The spirit continued to smile. "You're the one who brought me here, Sam. Consciously or not, whatever is going on _now_ somehow triggered a moment from that time in your life. I just gave you a little push, so to speak."

Winchester raked his fingers through his hair, feeling a deep sense of weariness take hold. He tried to compare the time in Morgana with what he and his brother were facing now. "The hospital thing, maybe?"

"Doubt it." Jake leaned back in the pew. "You've spent more than your fair share of time in the hospital, Kansas."

"Then the wreck?" Sam looked up, trying to tie the loose ends together. "You dying?"

The ghost shook his head. "Wrong. We might have been buds, Dude, but I seriously doubt if my death would be anywhere close to what losing your brother would bring up." Jake's face softened some. "I guess you'd be talking to your Mom or Jessica if that were the case."

Sam swallowed thickly. The idea of seeing his dead mother and girlfriend was both frightening and oh so tempting. "Damn it." He hissed, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. "I don't know…I don't know anything. Not what to do or how to fix this."

"Exactly."

Winchester glanced up at the spirit. "What?"

"I'm guessing you hit the proverbial nail on the head there, Kansas." Jake leaned forward. "Let's face it. You're a bright kid, but most of your life, you've had other people to handle the tough stuff. They've protected you, and sheltered you, and pretty much buffered you from all the shit you've had flung at you."

"You're joking right?" Sam asked in exasperation. "You must have missed a few chapters in the story of my life. My mom burned to death over my crib. Jess died the same way over our bed."

"You're missing the point." Jake shook his head. "Both times, your brother was there to pull your fat out of the fire. Literally and figuratively, Sam."

"I went to college. On my own," Winchester defended. "I did that all by myself."

The ghost laughed. "You're brilliant, I said that. You went to classes, you wowed your teachers, you got a great girl and friends that accepted you. Man…that was taxing."

Sam growled. "It wasn't as easy as you make it sound."

Jake sighed. "I know you worked hard and you feel you had that jerked out from beneath you, too. But I'm talking about the tough stuff, Sam. The times when there's more at risk than just a bunch of grades or your career. I'm talking about the times when your heart has been in jeopardy, your soul in danger. You telling me that Dean and your Dad haven't always been there? And Pastor Jim and Caleb? Your friend Mac?"

When Sam's eyebrow shot up, Jake grinned. "Ghost handbook, remember? I've seen it all, Kansas, and I got to tell you, you've had it made in spades in a whole hell of a lot of ways. There's only been a few times, maybe only two counting this very moment, that you have been alone. And I'm not talking 'physically' alone, Sam."

The hunter chewed his bottom lip, looked down at his hands. He knew Jake was right. Hell, maybe subconsciously he figured it out the moment he had woken up back in the past alone and hurt in that crushed car with Jake.

He'd felt helpless. Unsure. Useless. Truth be told, Sam was scared shitless of messing up-terrified of failing the people he loved.

So much for years of training. Dean and his father, Caleb and Jim, they'd all fought to protect him, to make him a strong, capable hunter. But in the end, they'd merely handicapped him. When left on his own, Sam still felt like a five year-old. A protected prisoner in a castle full of dragons. Only now the dragons were gone, the castle, cold and dark, and Sam was all alone.

"You're more capable than you think." Jake said as if he were reading his morose thoughts. "You made it back then-held it together. You even helped me."

The hunter laughed mirthlessly. "You died, Jake."

"Yeah, but you were with me. You didn't leave."

"I was crushed in the floorboard. Not much choice in the matter."

"You wouldn't have left me, Kansas. Even if you could have."

"Are you saying that I'm going to have to watch my brother die? Sit helplessly by as Death comes for him."

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you getting at, man?"

The spirit frowned. "I'm just trying to help you make sense of the past…to figure out why it's important now. To help you find what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything, but a way to help Dean."

"So, why _did _you come in here?" Jake gestured to the chapel. "You go to church a lot when you were a kid? Looking for a miracle cure?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "Not really." He thought of the times when he had gone to church, what he'd been taught about it's sanctity. "Jim made sure we knew where to find God if we needed him."

"Then you did come in here looking for the Big Guy?"

Sam raked his fingers through his dark, tousled hair. "I don't know what I was looking for." Faith. Peace. Shelter. Sam really wasn't sure. He merely felt lost. " I just want to save my brother."

"And you think finding God will do that?"

"Maybe."

"I'll share a little secret with you, Kansas. Places like _this_ are empty until people come in them. There was nobody here before you showed up."

The dark-haired hunter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you ain't going to find God hanging out in a church, or a temple, or any other hallowed place."

The furrows in Sam's brow deepened. "Hallowed ground has power."

"Your belief it in it has power."

"Are you telling me that God doesn't exist?"

"No." Jake shook his head, leaned forward. "I'm telling you that God doesn't exist in a structure, or in a book, or any certain place or country. That's not his style. Your friend Jim knew that-told you as much."

"Then where is He?"

The red head shrugged. "In the moments that mean the most, the seconds we'd like to freeze time, and just hold on to. He's in what we feel the strongest about…our passion, our hopes and dreams. Mostly though, you can find him in the people we love the deepest, the very bonds that hold us the tightest."

"Like my bond with Dean?"

"Yeah, Kansas. I'd say God's all over that." When Sam continued to look at him, Jake sighed. "Look, I'm not sure, because I'm still new to all this, but I think He just didn't create people in his image, man. People are a part of him. All living things are a part of him." The teen shrugged. "The most sacred part. This life, _being_ alive, it just blurs that sometimes, makes it hard to recognize Him, through all the superficial crap." He gestured to their surroundings. "People have always tried to put things in a box to understand them better-to make them more tangible. But pinning God down, boiling that kind of power to something simple, is like trying to rope the wind. He's everywhere."

"Kind of like the Force?" Sam couldn't help but to smile at all the times his brother and Caleb used Star Wars references to things like God and other unexplainable phenomena that made them nervous-threatened their tough guy images. After all, Dean was the most 'tangible' person that he knew.

"You got it, Skywalker."

"It still doesn't help me know what to do."

"Well, you kind of have to be dead to get the whole picture." Jake grinned again. "And I don't think you brother would take too kindly to me remedying that one."

Sam snorted, wiped a hand over his face. "No, I guess not."

The young ghost hunter rested his elbows against his knees. He let his head drop to his hands. He felt an aching in his legs from sitting so long in the hard wooden pew. "Thanks for bringing back such pleasant memories by the way."

The dead teen chuckled, "wasn't a picnic for me either, Corn Fed. I'm dead, remember."

"I know." Sam replied, lifting his head again. "It's just . .I'm not ready to lose him."

"Yeah, like I said, I wish I had a brother like that."

"Umm, look, I know it looks bad. Anyway you can have the big guy ignore him, give me some time?"

"It doesn't work that way, but I'll try." Jake looked to the door. "I think it's time you go check on Dean. I think you might find what you're looking for."

Sam stood up, taking his dead friend's suggestion. "Thanks, and I'm really sorry. I wish you were still around. . ."

Jake shrugged his shoulders. "You know think of me every once in awhile, and have a shot of tequila for me." He turned and started to move away, but stopped suddenly, swinging his gaze back to Winchester. "And Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember to have faith. That's real important. Faith can do amazing things. It has power just like hallowed ground, and holy water. It's healed people since the beginning of time."

Sam nodded, thoughtfully. Then in a moment Jake was gone, as if he was never there.

For a moment, the hunter wondered if he had dreamed the ghostly appearance, but had seen too much in his short life to discount something even as unbelievable as what had happened. Thinking of the moments he had relived, he raced to his brother's room, slowing down only when he came up to the door. Even in his urgency, he didn't want to alarm his brother.

He controlled his breathing, pushed the door and entered to find Dean awake. He lay pale, buried down in the mattress. His eyes flicked up to his younger brother.

"Hey," Dean said softly.

Sam sank down into the chair that had been his perch. "You should be resting."

"I should be doing a lot of things. . ."

"The doctor said you needed to get some sleep."

"I was waiting on you."

"I just stepped out for some air."

A hint of a lop-sided grin played at Dean's mouth. "Thought you saw your chance to finally get your hands on the Imapala." He swallowed hard, trying to pull in more air. "I wasn't sure you were coming back."

Sam leaned forward, closer to his brother. He remembered his own similar words in a hospital years ago. "I'll always come back, bro."

The other hunter frowned at his little brother's solemn tone. "You okay?" The faint light made the dark bruising under Dean's eyes look even worse, and the frown lines didn't help. "I mean...I know this is hard..."

"I'm going to fix it."

"Sammy..." The blond started, but Sam shook his head. "I mean it. It may take me a while, but in the end, I'll make it right." The younger brother reached out, let his fingers bravely encircle his brother's wrist. "I'll be here, big brother. Always."

Dean licked his lips, unsure if he should say something typical or let the humongous chick-flick moment slide, considering it could be their last. In the end he found the middle ground by playing the role he was born for. "You sure you're okay? Didn't jog anything lose when you did the slinky imitation down the stairs?"

Sam snorted, let him go to slide his hand through his hair. "I'm good."

"Then...thanks."

The younger Winchester tilted his head in slight confusion. "For what, man?"

"For taking care of this," Dean nodded to the darkened room around them. "You did good, Sammy."

"I should have been there." Sam said suddenly, his eyes brightening as an unexpected surge of emotion came out of nowhere. "I was just a few fucking yards away...and I couldn't even protect you-didn't have your back."

"Whoa," The other man slowly pushed himself up on the bed. He winced as his abused body protested the slightest of movement. "You were getting the kids out of there, Sam. There was nothing you could have done. This isn't your fault. Do you understand me?"

It was all clear to Sam now. The reason why he'd recalled the time in Morgana. "But I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you alone. There wasn't even anyone for me to beat the crap out of for hurting you." It wasn't just about him being alone...it was about him failing his brother, just like he had accused his brother of failing him.

"Okay," Dean sighed. "I'm buzzing the nurse."

Sam reached out and covered his brother's hand with his own. "No. You don't understand." He sighed. "That time in Morgana, when I was in the car wreck...I blamed you for not being there. I was so angry...and you were hundreds of miles away. But you still fixed it. You fixed everything. And I didn't do anything but call a damn ambulance."

"That's not true." Dean snapped. "You got me out of there. You kept me alive. Two things I had nothing to do with when it was you hurt in Morgana." His brother looked at him. "What the hell brought that up, anyway?"

The younger man threw his hands in the air. "I don't know." He said, miserably. "Losing you, I guess." Sam lifted his dark eyes to his brother. _The fact that you looked dead, and felt dead lying there in my arms_. "Being alone..." He shook his head, looked away. "It's stupid."

"Dude..." Dean waited for him to meet his gaze again. "I don't actually _get_ the whole car wreck connection...but I didn't want to leave you by yourself back then-don't want to leave you alone now." _Damn it. _That was the last thing he wanted, especially when their father was missing. The whole dying thing sucked. "I'd fix it for you if I could, kiddo."

Something in the tone, in the intense yearning reflected from the moss green depths had Sam's heart clenching. It was the simple truth of the words. The sincerity of the emotion behind them. Even in the darkest moments, Dean's thoughts weren't for himself, but for Sam.

And wasn't that just God-like of him.

Maybe Jake was right. God was in _those_ moments-the ones in which you saw and felt completely sheltered and safe and whole. The times when you knew you were not alone-could never be alone-as long as someone loved you **that** much. As long as you loved them that much right back.

A hint of a dimple winked on Sam's cheek. His mouth twitched. "So...you'll stay with me?"

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, some how seeming to recall the familiar words, and miraculously answering in kind. "Let's see someone try and stop me."

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, little brother." Dean licked his lips. "Now go to sleep, because you look like shit, Francis."

Sam laughed, shook his head. "That wasn't very God-like."

"Excuse me?" Dean raised a brow.

Sam stood, pulled the covers up over his brother, despite the disgusted snort of protest. He even went so far as to ghost his hand over Dean's hair. "Nothing. Get some rest."

"Where are you going?"

The younger Winchester shrugged into his jacket. "An old friend gave me an idea about how to help you." Jake had told Sam to have faith. It held the power to heal. Maybe Sam would do just that. After all, if he could find God in his dying brother's hospital room, maybe another miracle was just around the corner.

"You'll be back?" Dean asked sleepily, his eyes blinking a few times, as if they were becoming impossible to hold open.

Sam rested his hand on the other man's chest, feeling the uneven beat of the heart beneath his fingers. "You know it. And I'll bring you a kick-ass expensive get well present, too."

"No balloons," Dean said, seriously. "I will never forgive you if I see one bobbing, helium-filled piece of Mylar anywhere near me."

So his brother didn't remember everything from that time in Morgana. He squeezed his brother's shoulder. "I'll be back." Sam remembered the most important part. The part where Dean had saved him.

Sam was going to return the favor.

_September 2006_

A/N: Wow. It's finally over. I wanted to finish it before the premiere Thursday, just a little closure. BG. I don't know how to say thank you to all those who kept reviewing this monster, and wouldn't let me give up on it. Thanks so much! And a big thanks to Tidia who polished this up and kept telling me…Just post it already! In case you're wondering Dragons should be posted next week.


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